Nights in White Satin
by AG.Prentice
Summary: My personal take on Michaela and Sully's wedding night and honeymoon, based on the tiny clues left in the show. *Warning* I tried to be as realistic and coherent as I could, while avoiding gratuitous descriptions, but still, if lovemaking scenes, even between married people, bother you, then you should not read.
1. For the First Time

**Night in White Satin**

**by**

**A. G. Prentice_  
_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. The rights to those characters and to the show belong to the creators of the show, to CBS and the Sullivan Company.**

**I – For the First Time**

_Friday May, 20th, 1870_

Michaela and Sully were finally lying together on their fabulous bed for the first time, their kiss going on and on as their lips seemed unable to break contact. The rhythmic lurching of the train was giving their embrace a highly erotic motion that Michaela felt to her core. Her heart was racing so fast, and only going faster with every caress, and she wondered fleetingly whether she would die from sheer excitement.

She had already experienced the warmth, the thrill and power of desire – no matter how embarrassing and alien it had felt to her, especially at the very beginning of their relationship. Yet, it had never reached the point she felt tonight, almost smothering in its intensity. Nothing had prepared her for its uncontrollable flames, not even the many temptations they had already faced. And her deeply ingrained need for keeping the control did not like this one bit.

Yet, in her virginal ignorance, all she could do was to trust Sully to be true to his word about taking it ever so easy and to surrender herself totally to him, taking her cues from him about what she was supposed to do. Somehow, between her mother's warnings about the unpleasantness of the wifely duty, Dorothy's well-meaning but hard to follow advice of just letting instinct take over, and the somewhat confusing, contrary messages the said instinct was actually sending her, she couldn't figure out what to do.

Sully, too, was waging his own little war with instinct. The single knowledge that he was finally allowed to make this woman his in every possible way was threatening to overpower his self-control. His heart was thundering in his chest, its heavy pounding reverberating in every cell of his body like a loud chorus of drums. But he had made her a promise, which he fully intended to keep even if he were to collapse under the pressure.

He managed to pull away enough to discard the buckskin wedding shirt, exposing his chest oiled with sweat, and took a moment to look at Michaela, trying to gauge her state of mind. He wanted her to trust him, and to enjoy that first experience enough to overcome her reserve and shed that Boston upbringing which had taught her to smother her natural sensuality to the point where she was afraid of her own feelings. She would never begin to guess the amount of patience and self-restraint he'd had to muster on the few occasions she had let down her guard enough to allow him a bit more than a soft peck. Nor would she be able to comprehend the overwhelming, deep-seated need he felt for her, for everything she was to him – beyond best friend, beyond family, even beyond soul mate – a sentiment that even the greatest poets had neither named nor described.

Now, the moment had come to truly become one with her, heart, soul and… _body_. He had imagined it a thousand times, but never in his wildest dreams had he anticipated he would ache with desire so much that it would actually physically hurt. Her beauty had never shone more brightly than today, he almost had to pinch himself to ascertain he hadn't died and gone to Heaven. And now… now, they were alone. _Finally_…

He slowly lowered himself next to her, giving them both some time to catch their breath, and began gently tugging the bodice of her dress down, inch by inch, caressing her skin tantalizingly, his fingers lingering on the swell of her breasts.

Instead of breathing more calmly after that long, sensual, overwhelming kiss, Michaela only gasped at the sensations he was creating and shivered quite violently. The pleasure she felt was too new, too raw for her inexperienced body, and she recoiled in spite of herself, the scarlet blush that stained her face and neck neatly discernible even in the fading daylight. She cast Sully a pleading look, silently asking for patience and understanding.

Sully gulped. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction from her, not so early on at least. He *would* have to go real _nice_, real _easy_… He took a steadying breath.

What Michaela didn't know was that Sully had expected that even her complete trust in him might not be enough to fully let go of her inhibitions. He actually had, during the last few nights, worked on strengthening his endurance, using a combination of meditation and exercises. He had hoped he wouldn't need to rely on these too much, but now, he realized he had been right to do so. They would both need his stamina and patience.

Before she had time to mutter some excuse, he took her lips for a light, reassuring kiss, lingering just long enough to get her to respond. Then he took her hand and pulled her up to a sitting position, where he proceeded to free her hair from its elaborate hairdo, kissing her now and then. The shining tresses tumbled onto her shoulders one by one in large curls, until all the flowers, pearls and pins were gone, and he could run his fingers through the coppery strands. Touching her silky, lustrous hair was a sensual, gratifying pleasure in itself, something of which he would never tire.

Now in more familiar territory, Michaela was able to relax somewhat under his tender ministrations, and didn't flinch when she felt his hands on her back, fumbling again with the lacing. Sensing that he was having trouble, she asked:

"Do you need help?"

He stopped his fumbling and looked at her. "Yep. Tell me how to unknot this thing. Heck, it ain't a corset, it's more like a chastity belt!"

Michaela blushed at his choice of words. "I think I saw my medical bag among our luggage. You could use bandage scissors…" her voice trailed off, as she was too bashful yet to express out loud how anxious she had become to be freed from the constricting contraption, eager to breathe more freely, and yet more than a little nervous at the thought that Sully was about to see her unclothed.

Sully made a short work of cutting the remaining lacing of both her dress and corset, and then paused, waiting for a sign from her. Moved by his consideration of her feelings, she gave a tiny nod and took a deep breath to steady her nerves, willing herself to remain calm and allow him to move things along. Her cheeks still flaming red, she averted her gaze, not ready yet to face the lustful look she was sure to see in his eyes when he would completely undress her.

Sully didn't want her to act resigned and prude. He wanted her to be at ease with him, to be comfortable with his desire, _and her own_. So he lifted her chin to force her to look at him.

"Michaela, look at me… if something don' feel right to ya, you must tell me. I don' wanna do somethin' that makes ya feel bad, all right? If you ain't ready to be naked in front of me, then I can turn away, let you get into a nightgown, and we can cuddle all night and wait till you feel ready… I promised ya we'd take it easy, and I'm gonna keep my promise, no matter what. How's that?"

He gave her another soft kiss before he stood up and turned around, his back to her. He listened as she stood up also, and tried not to let his imagination run wild, as he heard the dress fall to the floor and the soft rustling sound when she stepped out of the frothy ring of the silk skirts… And then, he had the pleasant, exciting surprise to feel her arms slip around his waist, with the softness of her bared breasts pressed against his back, the brush of her lips and the tickling warmth of her breath onto his nape as she uttered, almost moaned, his name.

Not wanting to break the spell, he allowed her to explore his body at her leisure, knowing the reward would be well worth the delicious torture he was going through. He barely stifled a growl when her hands caressed his chest and lightly brushed his nipples. Unfazed, she continued her caresses down to the toned up muscles across his abdomen, her shyness only making her stop at the waistband of his tuxedo pants.

Michaela had actually surprised herself as she had slipped out of her dress. While the reasonable part of her brain had urged her to reach for the bedspread, or _anything_, to cover her torso before slipping on a proper nightgown, her instinct – or more accurately, _her desire_ – had drawn her to him at the sight of the strength and virility exuding from his perfectly outlined muscles. The feel of his taut, smooth flesh under her fingers and lips, against her own flesh, was overwhelming, and she just couldn't deny her need to touch him anymore. As familiar as she was with the sight of him shirtless, the context, the place, the light swaying motion of the carriage, all combined to her caresses a new dimension. She was no longer the prim and proper doctor, no longer the modest fiancée either, now, she was married to him. _Married_! She was united to him in spirit, heart, and soul. And now, the time had come to unite their bodies, too.

And how considerate he was! How endearing! How could she resist? He was willing to curb his own needs to allow her to enjoy their new intimacy at her own pace. How incredibly blessed she was to have found him! She wondered fleetingly whether any of the men she had crossed paths with would have been so patient, so loving and caring…

Eyes closed, she relished the feel of him and, now that she was so close, she could perceive his heartbeat, strong and fast, and she warmed at the thought that it was for her. She again felt the urge to kiss him, to hold onto him like there would be no tomorrow – like they were the last two people on Earth. And suddenly, a flash of understanding hit her, and she realized why so many people could sometimes act so foolishly because of _this_, because, right now, she truly cared about nothing else except being here, with him. Nothing could tear her away. It felt like every single cell of her body, every nerve ending, wanted, needed to melt and fuse with him. For the first time in her life, she really understood what _desire_ meant. Her analytical mind, or what passion had left of it, was awestruck by the phenomenon. She was afraid of the intensity of her own feelings, afraid of losing control and acting recklessly, or clumsily, on those deeply buried but powerful urges she could feel stirring within her. She feared those unspeakable desires would shock her husband and might ruin her relationship with him and she couldn't bear the mere idea of losing his love and respect, losing him in the process. She couldn't take that risk. So she fought the impulse that had come over her to loosen his belt, help him finish undressing and drag him back to the bed. _A proper woman should not take the lead… wait for the man_, said her reason, sounding a bit too much like her mother.

When she didn't make further moves, Sully warned her in a gentle whisper: "I'm gonna turn around, all right?"

She answered with another light kiss to his back, and her hold slackened enough to permit him to turn to face her. A sigh of rapture escaped him as his eyes beheld her half-naked body for the first time. Slowly, with infinite care, he explored her torso, cupping her breasts as he went. The softness of her skin, its warmth, its scent, literally overwhelmed his senses and he was unable to hold his physical reaction in check any longer. His trousers were becoming more uncomfortable by the second. He had the choice between finding a way to cool down, _fast_, and risking a bolder move.

He chose to take her lips again, to hold her so close she would feel the evidence of his reaction, and maybe, _maybe_, her resistances might yield on their own. He crushed her to his chest as his lips and tongue ardently sought hers.

Her flesh burning from and for his touch, Michaela could barely believe what was happening to her, and that it was actually happening to her. Her heart rate was becoming increasingly erratic with each new caress, and her body, as if drawn to him like a magnet, just moved on its own volition under his hands, her back arching toward him. When his arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her hard against his chest, taking her breath away with a kiss so charged with pent-up passion, she almost lost consciousness. And she might have, save her awareness of the tell-tale throbbing of his arousal pushing against her lower abdomen. She only felt her legs begin to give way and would have collapsed on the floor if Sully had not held her so tight and secure.

Sully felt her tremble and suddenly go limp in his arms, and figured out the reason for her weakness. He repeated his earlier action, scooping her up in his arms and laying her once again on the bed, still kissing her with ardor. Only this time, he left her mouth to trail his kisses down her throat to her collarbone, down further to the valley between her breasts, where he lingered a moment, breathing in the intoxicating mix of fragrances emanating from her skin. Another groan escaped his mouth as he luxuriated in her perfume, subtle and flowery, and her natural feminine scent, enhanced by the lavender soap she used every day, the very scent that had driven him almost crazy on the trip to Harding's mill.

As his lips were exploring her chest, his hair brushed lightly the highly sensitive skin of her breasts and the combination of sensations made her shudder violently, almost painfully. Gooseflesh erupted all over her body and her nipples hardened, leaving her breathless and dazed. She had a short moment of panic when she realized that she was losing all control over her own body, her own feelings – her very thoughts. And then, without warning, she sank into oblivion, the nervous tension that had been building within her body receded to make full way for her arousal. Every inch of skin touched by his hands or his lips came alive, reddening with the onrush of her blood, its flow untamed from the frantic beating of her heart.

Sully noticed the change in her demeanor, and tore himself from his luscious exploration to lovingly observe her. However, as she leaned back on the bedspread, her skin becomingly flushed, her chest heaving most enticingly, her trembling swollen, darkened lips and delicate nostrils, eyes brimming over with amorous fever, she was such a vision that all he could do to keep from taking her right on the spot was to turn away. Desperately, he concentrated on kicking off his shoes, shedding his trousers and breeches, and breathing as deeply and calmly as he could before beginning the task of removing _her_ undergarments. He swallowed hard, trying to block out the fantasies come to life of her lying naked and abandoned in his arms.

When she felt Sully pull away from her, Michaela came back to reality with a frustrated sigh but refrained from asking him out loud for the reason. She had her answer anyway when he finished undressing. Though she couldn't see him fully, since he was seated at her feet with his back to her, she gulped as she imagined what his aroused body truly looked like in all its glory, prompting another wave of heat to burn its way up to her face. Her wild heartbeat didn't get much time to recover, either, for Sully turned around once again, his eyes fixed on her feet, removing one boot, then the other, before running his hands up one of her legs toward the garter that held her white silk stocking in place. As he fumbled with the fastenings, his fingers rubbed against her inner thighs, making her heart nearly stop from pounding so fast and hard. She trembled again, her anticipation reaching another threshold when his fingertips came very, _very_ close to touching her most private place, where she had never dared imagine being touched, ever, by anyone. That very same place was now throbbing impatiently, much to her bewilderment, and clamoring for something quite unknown to her. She had yet to learn that a woman could need and expect fulfillment the way a man did…

As the crucial moment was looming very close now, the tiny shred that was left of her reasoning mind could barely remember what Dorothy had told her about what to expect of this particular stage of intimacy. The older woman had meant well when she had tried to reassure the nervous bride-to-be, telling her that there was nothing to fear at all, even not the rupture of the maidenhead, for the pain would last no longer than the sting of a needle. Upon seeing that her best friend had remained unconvinced, Dorothy had tried a more matter-of-fact approach, suggesting that, with riding a horse on a daily basis as she had done for the last three years, it was likely that the membrane was already gone, or at least loosened enough not to bother her when the time to join with Sully would come. Then Dorothy had thrown in a last piece of advice: she had insisted about Michaela letting Nature do its work, allowing her body to follow the age-old instinct that kept bringing men and women together.

Much too befuddled to determine whether she had succeeded in following her friend's recommendations, Michaela could only raise her hips a second to allow Sully to draw her bloomers down and off, that unspeakable, magnetic need to unite with him stronger than any embarrassment she could ever feel about being completely naked and exposed to her new husband's scrutiny. She sought his eyes, hoping to distract him from looking too closely at her body, and found them, their usual forget-me-not hue turned to a much darker shade, like a stormy ocean, a true reflection of the tempestuous desire raging inside that mirrored her own.

The mere act of taking her underclothes off had been sheer torture to him; his aching need was almost unbearable. He had never felt anything like that, never heard about it either. _The Body Electric?_ When it came to his attraction to this woman, that was an understatement for it more resembled the force of a thousand lightning bolts! He resumed the stroking of her body, his touch reverent, yet possessive, seeking her most sensitive places. He smiled mischievously, picturing himself as a musician learning how to master his instrument. He hoped that, one day, the roles could be reversed and she would be able to reciprocate.

Lying down alongside her, he lovingly brushed her lips with his thumb, then with his mouth, his tongue soon slipping in to sensuously meet and caress hers when she granted him access. She shuddered again, but settled quickly into the new movement of their mouths, the rhythm of which was clearly prefiguring the merging of their bodies. And then… his hand – _down there_. Searching – exploring her tender flesh. _Oh my God_… Such intimate caresses were jarring her innocence so much that her heart nearly stopped, but still she found herself enjoying his touch immensely, and she just couldn't hold back vocalizing her pleasure, her body unconsciously writhing in response.

More than pleased to feel her respond without restraint, yet knowing that he couldn't hold out much longer, Sully broke off the kiss and ventured a bolder caress between her legs, and watched her tense, then tremble and squirm under his ministrations, her features reflecting her enjoyment, and listened rapturously to the chant-like moans he was eliciting from her, her voice raspy with desire and pleasure. He caressed and kissed her some more, until he caught sight of her eyes, darkened and veiled with longing: she was ready and waiting for him.

Overwhelmed by all the sensations that assailed her and unable to control her response to them, she could only lie there, overcome by a strange, growing feeling of emptiness that had been nagging at her for the past few minutes and that she instinctively knew only Sully could fill. She readily complied as he coaxed her legs open, so he could position himself between them. She drew in her breath shakily as she felt his manhood pulsating against her, and a need to take him in, primeval and powerful, washed over her. She could almost hear her core calling out to him urgently. She could actually feel her body opening on its own as if it was a flower blossoming from the inside… What a bewildering sensation!

She wrapped her arms around his back, feeling the tense muscles under her palms, as her hands moved up to his nape. Sully took his cue from her embrace to dip his head for a sweet kiss, and then he carefully sought entry, all his attention centered on not hurting her, ready to pull back if necessary.

"Oooh…" she breathed huskily. She didn't think of bracing herself against the possible pain, so she barely noticed the brief tearing sensation since she was so completely awe-struck… _this is it_… How complete he was making her feel – that absolute oneness that couldn't be compared to anything else she had ever experienced, nor even heard about! From somewhere within the deepest recesses of her soul rose the certainty that this was how it would be between them from now on, as if a part of him had been etched within her, destined to remain there forever…

Seeing no trace of pain or discomfort marring her features, he allowed himself a sigh of intense relief. Yet he asked, just to be sure: "You all right?"

A dreamy half-smile on her lips, she nodded eagerly, much to his contentment. Without further ado, he started moving, as slowly as he could, focusing on every nuance of her reactions while trying hard not to get too absorbed in his own sensations. In the thousands of times he had dreamed of how it would feel to be inside her, never had he expected it to be so welcomingly warm and soft and so perfectly snug. Perfect, that was the word, exactly. Adoringly, he kissed her again and again, his lips and tongue again matching the rhythm of his movements, progressively picking up speed.

Then all too soon, their time together came to a blazing end. Michaela had no idea of how long their union had lasted. She only knew only that the exhilarating feeling that had swelled within her, bathing her whole being in its sunny light, had melted away before it had reached its zenith, when Sully helplessly reached his release. She was left with a kind of vague regret she had already experienced a couple of times before: a few weeks ago, at the homestead, when propriety had won over her needs, and a year before, when they had sealed their engagement in the sweat lodge with the most feverish kiss ever. Yet, feeling him softly quiver within her, and hearing him calling out her name in a low but intense rasp gave her an odd sense of satisfaction. She sighed serenely, holding fast onto his broad shoulders. He was sweating heavily and almost crushing her under his weight, but she couldn't care less. All that mattered to her, right here and right now, was that unbelievable sense of belonging with him – maybe also _to_ him.

When, at last, he had recovered enough to roll onto his back, she followed and ended up tucked firmly alongside his body. He was breathless, not only physically but emotionally as well, unable to find a suitable way to convey what this very first time together had meant to him: what _she_ meant to him. He could only hug her closer, his whole heart in his eyes as he peered into hers.

The setting sun cast its last flamboyant rays onto the train carriage, setting the dim light within ablaze for all but a second, and then darkness took over, encouraging the lovers to get a well-deserved nap before their arrival to Denver, and the beginning of a whole new chapter of their life.


	2. On the way to Denver

**Nights in White Satin**

_**By A.G. Prentice**_

**II – On the way to Denver**

Sully battled with the natural weariness threatening to overpower him, knowing he couldn't allow himself to succumb to sleep before he had assured himself of his wife – yes, _his wife_, in every sense of the term, he thought in wonder – and her well-being.

He willed his eyes to stay open as he softly caressed her arm, and asked: "Michaela, you all right?"

She jumped slightly in his arms, as if awakened abruptly.

"Sorry, you were sleepin', didn' mean to wake ya."

"No, it's fine, I wasn't asleep. But I thought you were," she answered quietly, her voice barely audible over the rumble of the train.

"Mmmh, almost… Just wanted to make sure I didn' hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable… ya know, with it bein' your first time an' all."

She smiled at his thoughtfulness and planted a soft kiss to his shoulder to convey her appreciation.

"I'm more than all right. You've kept your promise, Sully…" She trailed off, unsure at how to formulate the embarrassing question that was on her mind. Sully perceived her hesitation.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

She sighed, impatient with her inability to talk as plainly as he did about such private matters. _What's so terrible about it, really? He's your husband, for God's sake,_ said the little voice in her head, this time sounding like Dorothy's. Yet, she just couldn't bring herself to ask aloud whether she had pleased him. How did one ask such an immodest question?

"You wanna know if it was good for me, don't ya?"

She started again when Sully so astutely articulated her musings and blinked bashfully: "Was it?… Was I all right?"

Sully couldn't repress a chuckle, but he gazed at her with such tenderness that she knew he wasn't mocking her.

"You were incredible, you have no idea… You were perfect. You _are_ perfect."

"T–… Truly?" she stammered timidly, eyes widening in wonder. "But I… I didn't do anything… I don't know how… what to do…"

Sully knew he had to carefully choose his words so as to not shock her with his frankness, and to assuage her remaining insecurities.

"Don't worry about that. Ya know, I'm learnin', too," he said, his lips against her disheveled hair.

With her eyebrows raised in puzzlement, she shifted slightly in his arms to look at him.

"Sure," he went on, "We'll both be learnin' what the other likes best… or what we don't like. Like I told ya last year, not everythin' ya need to know comes out of a book. There are things you learn by doin'… lovin' each other, pleasin' each other…" At his words, she blushed and squirmed embarrassedly, but still she held his gaze. "It'll come with time." He reached out to cup her chin lovingly and stated: "Michaela, we got all the time in the world…"

As moved to tears as she was flustered, the only answer she could think of was to lean across and kiss him soundly, soulfully, with everything she had in her, again overwhelmed by her need to feel one with him, at least emotionally. It was so powerful, thrilling and awe-inspiring that she wanted to convey her fervor to him through her kiss.

Sully was pleasantly surprised at her reaction and the eagerness with which she was kissing him. Yet, he didn't dare press his luck too much, for they would be in Denver soon, and Michaela was far too inexperienced for him to initiate anything that would have to be concluded in a rush, as exciting as the idea was to him. So, when he felt his arousal about to flood his senses again, he broke off the kiss, a pang of regret stabbing at his heart as he saw a trace of disappointment flicker in her eyes.

"Should be in Denver soon, we best be gettin' ready," he said, his voice a bit hoarse. She nodded in acknowledgment, obviously trying to regain some composure. Sitting up and looking around for her luggage, she spotted the carpetbag in which she had packed her travelling outfit a few feet from her discarded wedding dress and undergarments. This quickly reminded her of her present state of undress and, her face prickling with self-consciousness, she snatched her underclothes from the pile, swiftly slipping on the flimsy camisole and pantaloons. Feeling a bit more comfortable now that she was no longer nude, she got up and reached for her bag. She couldn't help casting a surreptitious glance at the bed, looking for blood spots on the crumpled bedspread, where she had lain. Relieved that she saw nothing, she concentrated on getting dressed, all the while very much aware of Sully's presence, and sensing that he was presently watching her every move. The electricity between them was still so powerful that she shuddered under the force of its magnetism.

He hadn't expected her to disengage from his arms so fast and rush to her clothes, yet he wasn't surprised. He watched her attentively, content with simply admiring her as she moved around, her graceful limbs stretching, the loose curls of her hair bouncing off her shoulders, their cooper and golden highlights shimmering faintly in the semidarkness. He didn't know whether he was impatient to check into their hotel, or if he wished the train ride would last forever, so he could have her all to himself, no interruption, no emergency, nothing but them, together, alone.

He finally got up, too, put on his cotton breeches and tuxedo trousers, then crouched next to his wife who was still rummaging through the bag until she found her vanity case, a petticoat and a pair of black stockings. She also pulled out her travelling skirt and jacket. Again, she looked at the wedding clothes thrown about on the carriage floor. Sully followed her eyes, and, understanding her dilemma, he told her:

"Don't worry 'bout all this. As soon as we get ta Denver, I'll arrange for our belongin's to go back to Colorado Springs. Looks like Brian and John thought of everythin', they left those things ya use to protect clothes."

"That's very thoughtful of them. We'll have to bring Brian something nice from Denver."

"Sure. But ya know, he's so happy we're finally married that I guess he already got his reward."

"You're probably right." She chuckled, now fully considering Brian's role in their life.

"What?" asked Sully.

"I've just realized something… We actually owe Brian for more… so much more than… hum, our accommodations!"

"I know what ya mean. Guess since the beginnin', he's done everythin' he could to get us together."

"Do you think things would have turned out differently, if not for the children to constantly play matchmakers?"

"Some things woulda been different, yeah, but I'm sure we woulda ended up together anyway," he asserted, a gleam in his eyes.

Michaela wasn't too sure of the innuendo she detected in his words and lowered her eyes, busying herself with gathering the items she needed. She thought about all the times Sully had found excuses to come around the homestead before they had started courting, bringing meat, making repairs every now and then… how different would their life have been if Charlotte was still alive, or if she had asked somebody else to look after Matthew, Colleen and Brian? What would have happened if she had been totally on her own at the homestead? She remembered each and every time the children had helped to put things into perspective, how much they had taught her… It dawned on her that the course of the last three years would have indeed been drastically, not to mention tragically, different, if not for them. She also realized that Sully had fallen in love not only with her as a medicine woman, or just a woman, but also as a mother. She instinctively caressed her flat stomach, wondering how long it would take to become pregnant. Maybe their honeymoon would be fruitful – she certainly hoped so!

In one of the bags, Sully found the dress shirt, vest and jacket that he was supposed to have worn for the wedding, and put them on, leaving the bowtie off for the time being. When he was ready, he went back to Michaela who was now fumbling with the tiny buttons of her bodice. Wordlessly, he took over and both were transported back to that time when he had done up her buttons. They smiled softly at each other, aware that they were both remembering that moment charged with such an unspeakable longing. Once he was done, he leant in for a soft kiss, his hands settling quite intimately on her hips.

"Sure couldn't do that, back then," he joshed with a wry smile. She answered with a giggle, then reached for her stockings, her hand stopping in mid-air as Sully requested: "Let me? Please…" She blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat or two. She would have never imagined in her wildest fantasies that Sully would want to help her get dressed as much as he had been eager to do the exact opposite!

She relented and sat on the edge on the bed. As reverently as he had peeled off the white silk ones, he slid the black wool stockings up her legs, running his hands up and down her calves and thighs over and over, before tying the garters back in place. Michaela enjoyed his ministrations in silence, feeling cherished beyond belief. She thought herself the luckiest woman in the world right at this instant.

Finally, she took her hairbrush, working the bristles through her tangled hair until what was left of her former hairstyle was evened out into soft waves. She deftly anchored the sides at her crown with two of the combs that had held her previous hairdo in place, and was again interrupted in her task by Sully when she started to coil her hair into a bun.

"No, please, leave your hair down," he requested. She was about to retort that it wouldn't be very proper but thought better of it and let the knot unfurl down her back, eager to please him in such a simple way after all of his tender care.

They were now ready to get out, but they had still little less than half an hour to wait. Deciding to enjoy their accommodations to their fullest, Sully dropped into one of the wingback chairs, and pulled Michaela down to sit across his lap. She let out a small squeal of surprise, but she settled quickly in his arms.

He eyed her mischievously. "Let's kiss some more," he announced in a low, but playful tone.

"What a strange pastime!" Michaela played along, uncharacteristically teasing. "Wouldn't you rather play chess? Or read a book?"

"Nope. Only thing I can think 'bout right now is…" He touched her lips delicately "… those lips o' yours. Ain't nothin' sweeter in the whole world," he finished in a soft growl, his mouth pressed to hers. Her senses reeled with his seductive words and she opened her mouth to his in complete abandon.

Both relished in exploring new sensations by simply kissing with no restraint whatsoever. Michaela knew she would never get enough of the silky softness of Sully's lips on hers, of the taste of his tongue as it sought and caressed hers…

Their contact, though not meant to lead to lovemaking, left them as breathless and flushed as a more intimate encounter would have.

When the engine finally pulled their honeymoon railcar into the Denver station and came to a stop, they reluctantly rose from their chair, Sully stepping to the door and opening it for his bride. Alighting to the platform, holding hands, they gave the caboose one last glance, knowing they would never forget its wonderful surprise – or what happened within – before switching to gaze at each other with longing, each anxiously anticipating the two weeks ahead.

* * *

Sully found John and quickly settled with him the matter of their belongings left in the remodeled carriage, profusely thanking him for his generous contribution, then set out to find some means of transportation to their hotel. Within minutes, the newlyweds were cozily settled on the padded seat of a streetcar, barely paying attention to their surroundings, their only thoughts directed at each other. Under the thick fabric of her travelling outfit, Michaela was trembling ever so lightly, hard, almost painful gooseflesh all over her skin, all her senses heightened with everything she had experienced within the last few hours. She wondered whether Sully felt as she did, overwhelmed with a whirlwind of so many emotions she couldn't precisely define any of them.

She barely registered the grandeur of the hotel where they were to stay for a fortnight, for once letting Sully take charge of all the formalities, and only snapping out of her dazed state when he returned to her side and asked: "Michaela, you all right?" There was a hint of worry in his voice.

"I'm fine… I…" she couldn't finish her thought, but the look in her eyes was eloquent enough. Sully felt his heart melting with tenderness. He slid his arm around her waist and led her toward the staircase, a diligent bellhop laden with their luggage on their heels.


	3. Heart to Heart

**Nights in White Satin  
**

**by A.G. Prentice  
**

**III – Heart to Heart**

The ornate door of the honeymoon suite opened on a large, luxurious room, with a huge four-poster bed with brocade drapes tied to each corner and tall French windows bracketed with heavy velvet curtains. The oriental carpet was so thick that it almost swallowed their feet. On their left, a door led to the bathroom. On their right, a couch and two large matching armchairs overloaded with plump cushions were framing a low table carved from walnut wood in front of an elaborate marble mantelpiece, with a fire crackling cozily in the hearth. Michaela wandered around the room, taking in what would be their haven for the next couple of weeks. She heard Sully talk to the bellhop behind her, but didn't really register what they were saying.

Finally, the door closed, and they were alone again. She took a deep steadying breath, chiding herself mentally for being such a bundle of nerves. She trusted Sully with her life, and she knew with absolute certainty that he would never jeopardize her love and trust. Then why was she experiencing this restlessness?

So lost was she in her thoughts, she didn't notice that Sully was right behind her until he seized her by the waist, startling her. She tensed but for a second before relaxing in his embrace.

"Sorry," he breathed in her ear. "Didn' mean to scare ya. What's gotcha all jumpy like that?

"I don't know. I guess I'm so… excited," she admitted, eyes lowered, blushing with the use of the word, "and I'm not used to it."

"Excited, huh?" He slid around so he could face her. "I am, too. Hard not to be since I got ya all to myself for two whole weeks.." He cupped her face in his strong hands, his thumbs stroking the softness of her cheeks. She closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her and initiate another encounter, but when he did not, she reopened her eyes to find his staring at her intently, the hunger in them unmistakable. Her nerves quivered as her newly awakened body reacted instantly to his obvious desire, and before she knew it, she was the one to reach for his lips… the one to deepen their kiss… the one who snuggled up closer to him…

An untimely knock, followed by a rather loud "Room service!" broke the spell. Very reluctantly, Sully tore himself from his wife's clinging arms and answered the door.

He dismissed the bellhop quickly and returned with the cart bearing their dinner.

"Remember I told you how good at kissin' you are? Well, you're so good at it you made me plumb forget about orderin' dinner!"

"We could have gone to the dining room, Sully. It's still early," she scolded him gently.

"No way." He took her in his arms again. "Right now, I need to be close to you so bad it hurts," he admitted candidly, "and I don't think you sittin' on my lap, an' us feeding each other is allowed in the dinin' room…"

Michaela chuckled nervously, picturing the scene in her mind's eye.

"May I at least go to the washroom to freshen up, Mr. Sully?" she requested, a coy smile teasing her lips. He grimaced, pretending to consider it very seriously, then relented, laughing.

"Sure. But don't be too long, all right? Don't want the _food_ to go cold."

Michaela, this time, missed the nuance, but all the same blew him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom, her toiletries in hand.

As she came face to face with her reflection in the mirror, she stopped short and gasped at the sight of her inflamed lips and cheeks, her shimmering eyes and her overall feverish appearance. To her critical eye, it seemed the evidence of her earlier activities was written all over her face, even in the way she moved. Her heart fluttered all the more as she acknowledged the significance of her transformation: she had changed, and everything she had known had changed with her, as if the mere acts of getting married and consummating her union with Sully had transported her into another world, where she was no longer a single person on her own, but the other half of something much greater. She was then reminded of the Cheyenne legend Sully had told her, about the four-legged, four-armed creature the Great Spirit had split into two human beings. She remembered also the words from the Bible the Reverend had recited during the ceremony, and it all made much clearer, deeper sense to her now. Her initial shock turned into awe, her heart overflowing with a pure, profound joy.

She shook herself out of her reverie when she heard a clatter of dishes and cutlery in the bedroom. She splashed some cool water on her flushed face, patted it dry with one of the fluffy towels provided by the hotel and, feeling a bit more composed, joined Sully on the couch in front of the fireplace. He had dimmed the lights and arranged the plates on the coffee table. As soon as she was settled next to him, he reached for one of the small sandwiches and fed it to her bite by bite, interspersing each morsel with a kiss or two. She reciprocated, with Sully nibbling sensuously at her fingers. Soon the hors d'oeuvres were gone, and the tasty rabbit stew followed suit, both of the newlyweds taking great care of ensuring that no trace of gravy remained on the other's lips. Then Sully uncovered the dessert with a flourish.

"Strawberries!" Michaela exclaimed, smacking her lips ravenously. Not that she was that hungry, but she was truly enjoying herself. They both had had a sip of Chardonnay, just enough to feel the warming effect of alcohol, though it was debatable whether the heat that smoldered between them came from the wine or from the amorous atmosphere. Now, the rich, sweet berries meant business, kisses became a lot less light and teasing and soon turned into fiery, hard ones, enhanced by the fruity taste that lingered on their tongues.

While they remained locked into a passionate embrace and kiss, Sully rose from the settee, pulling her up with him. They stood there a moment, unconsciously swaying a little as if recreating the lurching motion that had cradled their first union. Only this time, Sully felt much less the somewhat selfish urgency of making her his, and was determined that she should enjoy the experience as much as he did, no matter how long it would take. Her enthusiastic response to his loving bode well, but he had a premonition that it might be a long, bumpy road for her to let herself go completely, most of all without all the second thoughts and insecurities coming back to her in a rush the way they had earlier. He could tell by the persistent blush that had been staining her face and neck and her uncharacteristic distracted demeanor since they had alighted that she was feeling out of sorts, and probably embarrassed with herself. He knew Mrs. Quinn had spoken to her daughter to give her some marital advice… and he was wondering what on earth she had told Michaela that made her so skittish, especially when he felt her stiffen in his arms as his hands found their way to her breasts. _Only one way to find out_, he mused, breaking off the seemingly endless kiss.

"Michaela," he whispered, out of breath. She opened her eyes to peer up at him, and for a moment, Sully forgot everything as he lost himself in contemplation of the mystery that was their unusual colors, those unique, vibrant shades of golden green and red amber that made her eyes look like precious, rare gems, eyes that had been haunting him since that fateful day in Loren's store, their depths now shining with such a compelling yearning, that he was fast losing his resolve of taking things slowly and gently. The intensity of his need instantly rose to a fevered pitch, to a point where he could barely fight it, his imagination ablaze with vivid images of her nude body writhing under his, fuelled by her scent and the memory of how her voice had sounded in the throes of passion this afternoon. Keeping his promise of taking their loving gently and slowly was proving to be much harder than he had expected.

He forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths. He just couldn't let himself be swept away, at least not until he had made sure his wife could meet him halfway. Their physical relationship was barely a few hours old and still as fragile as a tiny rosebud. It would take time, patience and care for it to strengthen and bloom. But to do so, he had some walls to knock down first.

"Sully? What is it?" Michaela asked timidly with a gentle, concerned squeeze on his arms. She too was quite winded, both from the kiss and the overwhelming force of her feelings. Much to her chagrin, she had flinched again when he had started touching her more intimately, and she was getting impatient with these involuntary reactions of hers. What was she shying away from? And wouldn't Sully become annoyed with her in the long run, wouldn't he grow tired of her inability to just submit to his desires without a fuss? He didn't like her to fuss, of that she was certain… _Oh dear, what was she to do?_

Sully noticed immediately when her expression changed from desirous to fretting. He had a fair idea of what was going through her mind and knew that a frank talk was in order _now_. So he gently stepped out the circle of her arms, took her hands in his, lifting the left one to his lips for a brief kiss just above her wedding band.

"Michaela, we gotta talk, before we go any further. Let's sit down."

Utterly puzzled, she followed him to the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.

"Sully, please tell me… I'm doing it all wrong, aren't I?"

Typical Michaela, ready to lay the blame on herself. He pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead tenderly.

"No, it ain't that, ya got no reason to fret… But the way I see it, you're holdin' back , an' I'm pretty sure it's about whatever your ma told ya about bein' with me…"

Michaela stared at him in disbelief. How did he know? She struggled with how to formulate her answer for a minute or so, until Sully's encouraging smile gave her the courage to reveal her innermost thoughts.

"Sully, you have to understand that I–… I… where I come from, women are expected to behave in a certain way….

"Figured that out years ago, still, it ain't like ya to care 'bout that kinda things. Would'na become a doctor, and would'na come to Colorado if you'd done what was expected o' ya…"

"True," she conceded. "But I'm afraid that… well – in… certain matters, I've been raised to believe that non-conformism only leads to… disgrace. You see, by becoming a doctor, I've done something to help people, I treat anyone who needs me, and I've learned to keep my personal feelings, whatever they might be, from interfering with my practice. When I took the Hippocratic Oath, I truly believed in what I was reciting. I still do…"

Sully nodded in acknowledgement. He knew better than to try and force her to get straight to the point, choosing to let her go at her own pace, to put her at ease.

Buoyed by his attentiveness, she forged on: "But when it comes to… how to behave with men… I never had much…" she paused, searching for the right word.

"Information?" Sully provided helpfully

"Yes," she confirmed, a small, rueful smile playing on her lips. "Of course, I knew all about procreation, thanks to my father and the books, but there was nothing in there about relationships, the feelings I was supposed to be feeling… And I suppose I was so caught up in my studies and my goal that I wasn't very interested in making… _friends_."

"But you got engaged… you loved David enough to wanna marry him, enough to be torn between us for a while."

Michaela held her breath at Sully's mention of her first love and fiancé. But she realized there was no trace of bitterness or jealousy in his voice and his eyes were clear, only gleaming with tender concern as they gazed into hers. Reassured, she continued her tirade:

"When David and I met, I was working in the hospital under my father's supervision, more as a chief nurse than as a future doctor, since I hadn't been accepted inyo medical school yet. One day, Father asked me to assist a new colleague of his for a delicate surgery…"

"David?"

"Yes. That's how we met. He was the first man, after Father, who didn't look down his nose at me because of my ambitions. I was so used to facing scorn that David's acceptance was a breath of fresh air. And before I knew it, he started calling, taking me to dinner, to the theatre… we were always strictly chaperoned, so at first I only went along, enjoying his company and conversation. That is, until that night when he brought me home, and kissed me on the front porch. My mother saw us…"

"I bet she bit your head off…"

"No, not really. She seemed worried, mostly, when she came into my room and asked if this had happened before, how many times, and she appeared relieved when I told her it had been the first one. Then she set out to warn me against doing things that could shame the family. Since I was clueless, she explained how I was to remain chaste until a proper wedding, and to let neither David nor any man, try to… touch me inappropriately…" She stopped momentarily, still obviously embarrassed after all these years. Sully remained silent, waiting patiently for her to resume her tale, stroking her shoulder and arm consolingly.

"At first I complied. I didn't think much of it, to be honest. I enjoyed David's companionship, his attentions, and he was always the perfect gentleman. It wasn't until I was accepted into Medical College in Philadelphia, when I realized how much I missed him, that we became serious. We wrote to each other almost daily, and when I went home for Christmas… We were so happy to be together again, that we… er… got a little…"

"Carried away?" Sully wasn't surprised at all – it was so easy to imagine Michaela as a naive young woman falling for the only man who had accepted her for who she was.

"Well, let's say that we kissed on the platform the minute I was out of the train, in a way Mother deemed indecent. She took me aside as soon as we arrived home and lectured me quite severely. I had never seen her so livid, still haven't. Mother led me to believe that only women of loose morals would allow themselves to kiss or touch a man they're not even engaged to in public… And when David and I did get engaged, she lectured me again about propriety, and saw fit to add that I should not display my sentiments so openly, that it was… _obscene_. Then, a few days ago, she told me… that I was to endure the wifely duty without complaint to keep you happy, and that if I didn't like it, then I would have only myself to blame for marrying for love," she concluded in a whisper, eyes averted in sheer humiliation.

"Endure the…? Is that how you've been feelin' all this time? That you gotta just let me have my way? Without enjoyin' it? What kind of marriage is that? Oh, 'Chaela!…" Sully shook his head incredulously at the enormity of it all. He slid from the bench to kneel at her feet.

"Darlin', look at me."

Surprised at his rare use of a term of endearment, she snapped her head up.

"I swear to you, I ain't never gonna force myself on you. I love you more than I can put it into words, and that means that I wanna make you as happy as you make me…"

"Sully, you do make me happy, so much more than I ever thought possible! What I meant by telling you all of this, is that I've been taught not to seek p… pl – enjoyment for myself, but being with you… it has felt so wonderful and… I don't want you to think that I'm… some sort of…" she stammered, a lone tear making its way down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb as his hands came up to cup her face.

"Don't ever think somethin' like that. Remember what I told you on the train? We'll learn together, there's no hurry. Don't ya think it's natural for a wife to enjoy bein' with her husband?

"Of course, it is… but with such intensity… it can't be healthy," she confessed. Sully's jaw dropped.

"It _is_ healthy, and I'm glad you feel that way with me. You gotta forget all this Boston hogwash you've been taught. That's the thing that ain't healthy in my book."

Relief washed over her, yet she felt compelled to add: "Please don't be angry with me if sometimes I don't react as I should… or as you'd like me to…"

"What did I just tell ya, huh?" he scolded her gently with a playful tap on her nose. "Don't – worry – about – that," he stressed each word with a kiss. He stood up and gathered her in his arms again for the gentlest hug, patting her back comfortingly.

Michaela felt like a tremendous pressure had been lifted from her shoulders as she was finally able to fully relax for the first time since a long while, since her mother had shown up in Colorado Springs, actually, though both women had reached some kind of truce in the end. Now, cradled in Sully's protective embrace, she could savor his closeness without fear or guilt.

Sully was just as relieved to feel the tension in her body ease significantly. Satisfied with what they had achieved tonight, he pondered whether or not to pursue his previous loving overtures. It was late and it had quite a busy day. When she tried to stifle a yawn, he made up his mind to wait until the next day for more _sparkin'_. Tonight, they would snuggle up under the covers and fall asleep in each other's arms. That sounded just as wonderful.

"Time for bed… It's been a long day," he crooned in her ear, his breath ruffling the coppery tendrils framing her cheek and eliciting yet another shiver from her.

"Mmmh… you're right," she concurred, as she stepped back and scrubbed at her face sleepily, in that oh so familiar gesture he had seen her do countless times at the clinic whenever she was standing vigil by one of her patients. He indicated for her to go into the bathroom first. As he was untying his shoelaces, he didn't notice his wife's brief hesitation as she retrieved a nightgown from her personal effects.

Her hand had encountered the glossy satin and opulent lace of the peignoir that lay at the bottom of the bag. Though she didn't know how it would look on her, she was certain that such a garment had been designed expressly for romantic purposes, unlike her plain bathrobes at home. Knowing she would have other opportunities to wear it, she left the negligee where it was and headed for the bathroom.

When she came back, her hairbrush in hand, Sully had blown out all lamps save one and undressed, only keeping his breeches on, a folded nightshirt tucked under his arm. He gave her a quick buss on the cheek. "Be right back," and with a nod toward the brush, he asked, "wait for me?"

True to his word as always, he joined her a few minutes later, and knelt behind her on the bed. No words were spoken as he took the hairbrush from her to run it through her long tresses in slow, soothing motions, both reminded of their expedition to Harding's mill, when he had brushed her hair just as caringly.

Sully could tell from the way her shoulders were sagging more and more with each stroke of the brush that she was not only relaxed but very possibly dozing off. He pulled his droopy-eyed wife down, reclining with her under the thick bedcovers. She snuggled in closer, sighing as she found a comfortable position, and within seconds fell fast asleep. Sully smiled softly to himself, relishing the feel of having her lying so peacefully and trustingly in his arms, before joining her in slumber.


	4. The Wonder of the First Morning

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**IV – The Wonder of the First Morning**

_Saturday May, 21st, 1870_

Sully blinked sleep away as the first rays of the sun spilled into their honeymoon suite. Next to him, Michaela was still sleeping, her breathing deep and steady. Sometime during the night she had rolled away from him and curled up on her side like a little child, her cheek demurely pillowed on her hand. Rather than being frustrated or disappointed, Sully found her ingenuousness even more endearing and irresistible, and took advantage of her stillness to take a good look at her, his eyes feasting upon every little detail: the trace of freckles across her shoulders, the graceful curve of her neck, the outline of her cute little ear, the skin of her cheek a rosy velvet, like a ripe apricot, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the way her nightdress outlined her womanly curves… Unable to resist the urge to feel her body against his, he slithered closer, spooning himself tightly along her back, his arm curling around her possessively. He buried his face in her hair, intoxicated by its fragrance and silkiness, and just savored her presence while waiting for her to wake up.

Michaela was feeling incredibly warm, safe and content. She couldn't remember having ever slept so well before. Glorious sunshine was illuminating the bedroom, its brightness filtering through the thin flesh of her closed eyelids. She was laying in the softest of beds, nestled into immaculate white bed sheets, her limbs heavy and her mind for once light and free, floating like a fluffy cloud in a clear summer sky. She yawned and stretched languidly, her movements somewhat restrained by the barrier of Sully's arm round her waist. The memories of their wedding day and the quite eventful train ride to Denver came rushing through her mind and sent pleasurable shivers along her spine. Suddenly, she froze as Sully's grip tightened and she became aware that he was awake… more than awake. The wheels of her quick mind started racing as, for a split second, the doctor in her, with her in-depth knowledge in human physiology, took over and wondered whether it was the natural phenomenon that happened to any healthy male at night, or if he was indeed conscious and wanting her. She rolled over to face him, only to meet with the telltale darkened blue of his eyes that answered her unspoken question.

No words were exchanged as their joined lips did all the talking, and they kissed each other good morning thoroughly. When they finally broke off the kiss, Michaela murmured, in that raspy voice that stirred him so: "I love you."

"Love you, too," he whispered back. He clasped her to him, willing the tenderness of the moment to diffuse the lust that had started to burn again in his loins. He had expected that once they had consummated the nuptials, once he had found release for those three long years of pent-up yearning, controlling his feelings would be easier. But he hadn't counted on how good it would actually _feel_ to be with her. The carnal knowledge he now had of her gorgeous, perfect femininity had ignited an insatiable hunger within him. Yet, he didn't have much of a choice: acting on this kind of rough desire would only bewilder her, scare her off or worse, hurt her. With a supreme effort of will, he tried to cast aside the memories and fantasies that were taunting him. He would only rejoice in waking up to his beautiful new wife and in knowing that he would do so every morning from this day on.

He slid down a little to be at eye level with her, losing himself in her luminous eyes once again. He started tracing her features with his finger, his touch feather-light and when it reached her lips, she kissed it tenderly. He wanted nothing more than to tell her how he felt, but again, there were no words that he knew of that could truly express the depth of his love. He then remembered Michaela quoting that philosopher during the premarital counseling, and that made him chuckle.

"What's funny?" whispered Michaela, her expression half-curious, half-worried. Sully sobered immediately.

"I've been tryin' to think of somethin' I'd like to tell ya, but I just can't find the right words, but then I remembered how you'd like our marriage to be like that German fella said…"

"Oh, the endless conversation over the breakfast table?"

"Yup, that one…"

"And what did you want to tell me that made you think of that?"

"That's just it… ya know, I ain't so good with words, wish I was, so I could tell ya just how wonderful you are, how good you make me feel, how much I love you…"

Deeply moved, she could barely articulate: "You _are_ good with words, Sully. You've always been able to tell me what I needed to hear, direct and honest… and most of all, loving. I feel so cherished right now, I think I'm about to burst…"

"Same here," he murmured against her lips, as they melted into each other's arms for another kiss. At first gentle and tender, it soon grew more passionate as she very willingly opened up to him. She savored the exquisite softness of his lips, the voluptuous caress of his tongue around hers, the warmth of his breath as it filled her mouth, as if he was breathing new life into her. This kiss became her lifeline as the sensation of drowning into light, the same she had experienced the day before on the train, engulfed her once again, and nothing but her awareness of him existed anymore. She felt herself dissolving into the sunlight that spilled onto their bed… into sweet ecstasy.

Sully wondered whether she was truly aware of where their good-morning kisses were heading and if she was _consciously_ inviting him for more. Loath to break the spell, he waited for a sign that would let him know what she really wanted. Yet she seemed perfectly content with simply kissing. Maybe it was still far too soon for her to be more daring… As if to confirm his suspicions, Michaela broke off the kiss. She stared a moment at him, eyes glistening with something he couldn't quite fathom. Then a slow, dreamy grin spread on her face, the kind of which he remembered seeing that afternoon at the new homestead, when they had ended up kissing on the floor.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

Michaela hesitated but for a second, unsure about disclosing such a mundane detail to him, before her curiosity got the best of her, wanting to know if he had felt the same way.

"Yesterday, when I woke up… I looked at the empty place next to me… and I wondered about how it would feel to wake up in your arms today… every day…"

"So? How does it feel?" he probed, his smile mirroring hers. And as her eyes widened in awe, he understood and shared the emotion that shone in her eyes so brightly and left her for once bereft of all words, but not of action, for she leant in to kiss him anew, needing to prolong indefinitely this moment with him.

"Good answer," Sully whispered as their lips momentarily parted so they could catch their breath. "Same here," he repeated.

This time, Sully couldn't keep his hands still under the covers. In the most unhurried way he could muster, his caresses started along her spine down to the small of her back, where they lingered for a bit, then on her hip… When she didn't flinch, he moved to her buttock, furtively cupping it before sliding down her leg ever so slowly, until he found the hem of her nightdress, and let his fingers explore every soft, sweet inch of her on their way up to her breast. Meanwhile, his mouth left hers to leave a trail of light kisses along her jaw, until he reached the exquisitely sensitive place behind her ear, teasing it gently with his tongue and causing gooseflesh to appear all the way down to her toes. He delighted in listening to her breathing coming out in barely audible moans, the soft puffs of air deliciously tickling his neck. _Easy does it_, he kept reminding himself, as his own body began trembling with the force of his arousal.

Though quite dazed by the whirlwind of pleasurable sensations he was awakening within her, Michaela noticed Sully's state, and it dawned on her that he was restraining himself for her sake. It was obvious he was about to burst, yet, he was still patiently waiting for her, and she realized that she owed him the same tender care and consideration. Feeling clumsy and a bit uneasy, but determined to learn how to give him the pleasure he deserved, she tried to reciprocate his caresses, her hands trailing sensually down his back. Sully, needless to say, was more than pleased with her initiative. To thank and encourage her, he nibbled at her neck, while his hands were still weaving their magic under her nightgown.

After a while, Sully pulled back and sat up. Underneath the covers, it was like an oven. He needed to cool down before he lost all control, so he pushed the bed clothes down and slipped off his nightshirt, casting it carelessly on the floor. Michaela watched on, her remaining shyness preventing her from mirroring his actions right away. It was one thing to undress in the dark, and quite another to be unclothed in broad daylight! But when he remained still, hovering above her, his eyes raking hungrily her body, his tongue darting out to wet his dried lips, she gulped: he was waiting for her to do the same. Quaking with a mixture of self-consciousness, anxiety and her own need to feel his skin against hers, she sat up too, and peeled off her gown.

Sully was torn. On one hand, he truly appreciated her efforts; on the other hand, he didn't like seeing her so ill at ease, so apprehensive. He wanted to reassure her, to tell that everything was all right, that _she_ was all right, but no words came out. All he could do was to take her hand and bring it to his lips, kissing it reverently, before placing it on his chest right where she could feel his heartbeat.

Again, Michaela was overwhelmed by his love, his unbelievable patience and care. She mustered up her courage, and asked timidly:

"Is there… something you… you'd like me to… do?"

His answer was immediate, though his voice came out quite hoarsely: "I want you to do what feels right for you. I want you to listen to your heart, not to your mind." He let his words sink in for a few seconds, before he risked adding: "If somethin' don't feel right to ya, if you ain't ready, then don't do it because you think that's what I'm expectin' from ya. You'd be fakin' and that ain't fair to either of us. Ya got a right to tell me to stop if you don't wanna be with me at the same time that I want…"

"But Sully…"

"Nah, no buts… So, what d'you wanna do, now?"

"I… I want to show you how much I love you…"

"Then do, the way you want to. If you just wanna kiss, fine with me… if you wanna touch me, caress me, then you can… but only if it's what ya really want, all right?" He kissed her hand once again. The short conversation had enabled him to calm down enough so that, in case she wished they'd stop, the frustration wouldn't be too hard on him. He would be disappointed, of course, but mostly with himself for maybe spoiling the loving mood, for not taking things slowly enough, for initiating another encounter this early…

Michaela sensed from his demeanor, the rasp in his voice, as well as what he wouldn't tell her, no matter how much he claimed the contrary, that he would be sorely frustrated if she were to call things off. Not that she actually wanted to. Quite the opposite: she wanted to feel again that blissful oneness when he was ensconced within her, all warm and safe and wonderful… Maybe it would be worth it to force herself a little, wouldn't it?…_If you wanna touch me, caress me, then you can_, his words echoed in her mind. Tentatively she reached out, and like the first time, gently explored his chest, his shoulders and arms, only this time, she was free to touch his lower half as well, unencumbered by clothes. Shyly, she stroked his muscular thigh in a light, circular massage, her eyes never leaving his all the while, until her hand brushed against his crotch. Sully inhaled sharply, and Michaela snatched her hand away, as if burned.

Knowing he had to reassure her, Sully reached for her hand to put it back on his upper thigh, and said encouragingly: "It's all right, 'Chaela… I'm likin' what you're doin'…"

She swallowed the nervous lump that had just formed in her throat, and chastising herself for being so prudish, she resumed her caresses, though her hand demurely returned to his chest. His skin was so smooth and warm, his muscles so well defined and strong… The doctor in her could admire the great work of Nature, the cultured woman couldn't help but think of him as a glorious incarnation of the Greek god Apollo in his perfect masculinity, and the bride marveled at the thought that this man was indeed her husband, hers forever, to love and to cherish.

She again felt the pull of their mutual, irresistible attraction, so she scooted closer to him. He enfolded her in a possessive embrace before they reclined on the bed once again, their lips instantly finding their way to the other's mouth. And as she completely surrendered to his caresses, she also felt her body quiver and burn with an odd kind of impatience, one she had only momentarily experienced the previous evening. She was at this moment much more aware of every touch, contact, friction, smell, sound and taste than she had been the first time: the way her breasts were pressed to his chest, its hair teasing her tender, so sensitive flesh, the salty flavor of his perspiration as her lips and tongue traveled down his neck, the still unfamiliar scent of their mingled arousals filling her nostrils, intoxicating like the bouquet of a rich Burgundy wine… Her womb and her heart were pounding in synergy like drums, calling for fulfillment, so that her body opened up on its own volition under his.

Sully didn't hesitate. Actually, he couldn't really control his reaction to her unequivocal invitation, his body instinctively answering the age-old appeal. Once again, their bodies met and fused together. They were one.

To her, it felt like an immense relief, and yet her body craved more, and the more she received, the more she wanted. She couldn't pinpoint what it was that she needed so badly. She only knew that this craving felt like she was lost at sea in the midst of a hurricane of sheer delight, its huge waves whipping her up higher and higher, while she remained steadfastly anchored to him…

Determined to bring her over the edge with him this time round, Sully hoisted himself up, his free hand reaching down between their joined bodies. The combination of his slow but powerful thrusts and his unfettered, purposeful fondling soon had its desired effects. With a mixture of pride and reverence, Sully watched her rolling her head from side to side, her eyelashes fluttering, her lips quivering and her chest heaving with ragged breaths; her soft whimpers punctuated his movements. This bewitching chant was seriously threatening what little control he had left, but what finally succeeded in overpowering him was the feel of her pressing gently and rhythmically around him, and the plea in her voice as she called his name in a long, drawn-out moan, to which he responded in kind when the supreme pleasure overcame him and he collapsed under its blast…

Oh, the way he knew precisely where she needed to be touched! The way his movements were matching so flawlessly the rolling motion of her inner tempest! And suddenly, when she felt like she couldn't take it anymore, something exploded within her, knocking her senseless… Nothing existed anymore save a still, odd kind of peace. Had she died?

Slowly, their surroundings came back into Sully's focus. Michaela lay unsettlingly motionless and silent under him. Worried, he summoned the last remnants of his energy to disengage himself and roll onto his side. She still didn't react. Had he hurt her in the spur of the moment? Had she fainted? A flutter of her eyelashes, a sigh escaping from her lips and the tiniest trace of a smile put paid to his concern as he realized that she still hadn't recovered from what had just happened. His heart swelled with love for this extraordinary woman who brought him so much happiness. As he had done earlier, he drank in the slightest details of her radiant beauty and he found her lovelier and more beguiling in the afterglow of love than ever. He wanted to imprint this moment, this vision, in his memory, forever. Careful not to disturb her, he draped his arm across her midriff and watched her falling asleep, sprawled out in the posture in which pleasure had struck her down, until he also indulged into a well-deserved nap.


	5. Once Upon a Ring

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**V – Once Upon a Ring**

Michaela stirred when she heard a door creak, and then softly shut, followed by the shuffling of Sully's feet on the thick carpet as he approached the bed. She yawned and opened her eyes.

"Hey, Sleepin' Beauty. I was 'bout to kiss you awake… how are ya feelin'?"

Mechanically, yet truthfully, she almost said that she was fine, but her answer died in her throat when she suddenly became aware of her position under the coverlet, her legs and arms stretched out like a slender starfish, and then she remembered. Her jaw dropped in shock and she blushed furiously before turning ashen. In an instant, she wanted nothing more than to disappear under the bed, shamed by the memory of her earlier complete abandon.

Sully knew what her change of complexion and expression meant. Perching himself on the side of the bed, he took hold of her hand, thus stopping her from turning away. Still she averted her face, and was chewing on her lower lip anxiously.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, reddening again. Since they had already discussed this matter seriously the night before, Sully realized that the best course of action might be to try and make light of the reason of her embarrassment.

"Sorry? 'Bout what? Oversleepin'?" he teased, deliberately skating around the sensible subject. "Don't ya worry, I just got up fifteen minutes ago myself. No harm done."

At first, Michaela thought that Sully hadn't understood her excuse, but as she risked a glance at his face, the gleam in his eyes and his matching playful smile told her that he _did_ understand, all too well. Obviously, the way she had acted did not appear to have any kind of negative effect on his attitude toward her. Moreover, Sully seemed genuinely content, as if everything was perfectly normal and natural. _Was it?_ Had he really enjoyed her being so – licentious? _Oh my_…

Before she had time to recollect more of what had happened, he announced:

"Drew you a bath, and they're gonna bring us lunch in an hour or so. Figured that's enough time for you to get ready, huh?"

"Lunch?" she exclaimed, nearly bolting out of the bed. "Sully, what time is it?"

"Half past eleven."

Michaela was positively aghast. Yet, since the last thing she wanted was for any hotel staff member to see her in her current state of undress, she didn't dare wasting any more time agonizing over the lateness of the hour, or the fact that just a few hours before, she had been visited by a sort of incubus that had tricked her by assuming the appearance of her darling husband in her dreams. A tiny thought was tugging at her consciousness, telling her insistently that it hadn't been some unbridled, highly inappropriate fantasy, but that it had indeed happened. And yet… something was missing, like a blank. Her memories of this encounter were vivid but rather jumbled, and something definitely didn't make sense, least of all her reaction. It was as if, for a brief moment, her mind had stood by, disembodied and forsaken. What on earth had happened to her…?

Sully could see how upset she was from her pursed lips and the deep crease across her brow, and he suddenly wished he had taken the time to talk with her about her very unexpected – at least for her – response to their morning interlude, instead of letting her fall asleep right on the spot. He could have come up with the excuse to help her back into her nightgown, or whatever. Now she was acting as if all his efforts to reassure her about their intimacy had been for naught. _Heck, so much for tryin' to play it down_…

He silently watched as she wrapped herself modestly into one of the covers and scurried to the bathroom, her eyes lowered. Upset with himself, he sighed dejectedly, and stretched out on the bed to wait for her. He pondered whether he should join her in the bathroom, to apologize maybe, or at least, to talk things through… anything that could restore the loving atmosphere would be most welcome. But all he could do was to strain his ears for the sounds that came from the bathroom. Five minutes before he had hoped that he would be able to join her in the tub. Unfortunately, this idea seemed in jeopardy for the moment. _Maybe some other time_…

* * *

Michaela leant against the closed door, breathing hard to steady her nerves, and tried to focus on the tasks at hand: bathe, dress and do her hair. She hastily folded the thin quilt, pinned up her hair loosely to keep it from getting wet, and stepped into the bathtub. The water was hot, but not unpleasantly so, and the aroma of lavender filled the room and her nostrils. She settled comfortably, allowing herself to relax at last. Her thoughts were still disturbed, but the soothing effect of the lavender oil, as well as the brief moment of complete privacy, helped her begin to see things more clearly.

Dorothy, when she had tried to explain to her friend what to expect when she would _fall off the log_, had tried a few other metaphors to describe how she was supposed to feel, but nothing Michaela had experienced could possibly compare… Replaying the entire conversation in her mind, she recalled Dorothy giving her a rather cryptic warning:

"Michaela, if you keep worryin' that much about it, you'll simply never be able to really enjoy yourself! You'll never know that extraordinary, ecstatic feelin' you get when the man you love fills you up completely and you reach paradise together!" _Paradise_? Was that how Dorothy had called that disembodying feeling?… True, she had felt like she was about to die… and yet… it had been so different from that moment she had faced her own mortality during the influenza outbreak… it had felt… could it be that it had actually felt… astounding… wondrous… heavenly? The meaning of what had happened suddenly made sense and she felt incredibly foolish for overreacting. She could only laugh at herself with a disenchanted shake of her head at her own silliness, though a lingering trace of embarrassment remained.

Sully obviously wanted her to enjoy their intimacy as much as he did, and she certainly wished the same for him, but she just couldn't figure out what else she could do besides what she had tried earlier. She wished she had asked Dorothy about the best ways to please a man. Her heavy medical textbooks certainly hadn't provided her with this particular knowledge, only delivering purely clinical facts. But then again, how did one ask such an impudent question, even to their best friend?

Lost in thought, she mechanically lathered the sponge with soap and ran it along her arms. As it brushed against her left hand, her ring got caught on a fiber, slipped free and dropped into the water with the smallest splash. Frantically, she searched for it, groping around the tub. Her fingers soon closed around the circle of gold, near her foot. Relieved, she clasped it to her chest then kissed it fervently. Holding the precious symbol of her marriage to Sully in her palm, she finally could examine it more closely: it was rather thick and heavy, its surface polished into a smooth, rounded shape, its overall design elegant in its sobriety. In fact, it was just like everything Sully had given her, the house he had built for her, the bed he had carved so painstakingly, not to mention her engagement ring – so many precious symbols of his love. How many women were as lucky as she was to have men who would go to such lengths to prove their devotion to their wife as Sully did?…

As the steam from the bath cleared a little, she caught sight of something engraved on the inside. She had to squint to make out the words, but she finally managed to decipher _My Heartsong_. Though she had never come across that word before, she had no trouble understanding its meaning, its force, and felt immediately awash with the amount of devotion held in this one little word. And it was all, and only, for her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she suddenly found herself praying, thanking the Almighty for bringing Sully into her life, and for the boundless gift of his love. She was more than lucky: she was blessed.

She didn't know what made her turn around and look at the door, but when she did, he was standing there, watching her with such adoration that it took her breath away.

* * *

Sully had been patiently waiting for Michaela to proceed with her ablutions, sitting up in their bed, his mind unfocused, trying not to think of her, of the rivulets of water trickling down her arms, her back… on her breasts… They had been married for a little less than twenty-four hours, they had made love twice already – and quite intensely this morning – but instead of fulfillment, all he could feel was an overpowering, endless, aching need to be near her, with her, to see her, to touch her… It was starting to worry him. Here he was, feeling like some lovesick boy, or one of those dime novel characters, under the influence of a powerful philter. That thought only was enough to bring a wry smirk to his face: he certainly had fought his feelings for her in the beginning, to no avail. The harder he had striven against his attraction to her, the fiercer it had become. She had truly bewitched him with her original, breathtaking beauty, but also her generous soul, her caring heart, her strong will, her intelligence and open-mindedness… In comparison to her qualities, her shortcomings only endeared her to him all the more for there was no pettiness in them, they were merely highlights to her personality…

At this point in his contemplations, his eyes strayed back to the bathroom door. Had he imagined she was calling out to him? No sound could be heard, and yet, he felt drawn to the bathroom by an irresistible force. Slowly, as if in a kind of trance, he rose from the bed, wandered to the door, quietly pushed it open, and stopped, mesmerized by the sight of the woman he adored. Though he remained silent, breathless and still, she seemed to sense his presence for she turned around.

Their eyes locked through the scented mist, all coherent thought instantly vanishing from both their minds. A second – or was it a minute – later, Sully knelt next to the tub and, cupping her face, kissed her. Just as spellbound as he was, Michaela passionately responded, pressing herself closer, not caring that they were splashing water all over the floor or that she was still naked and all wet while he was fully clothed, his ironed dress shirt now drenched and sticking to his skin. They clung to each other like they were both drowning, fingers knotted at each other's nape, their breath, tongues and lips merging together.

Sully finally managed to regain his senses enough to pull away. He wanted nothing more than to be with her again, but he had to be reasonable: they had skipped breakfast already – he was quite hungry, to say the least – and he knew her well enough to guess how mortified she would be if they were to keep this up and a waiter was to bring their lunch right while they were – _busy_.

"Lunch's gonna be here soon," he reminded her in a somewhat strangled voice. That was enough for Michaela to snap out of her trance as well, though her heart, like Sully's, kept on beating too fast and hard, and she felt rather light-headed. And of course, she blushed as she realized that again, she had been in danger of completely losing control. _What was wrong with her_? But though she was struggling to regain her composure, the feel of the wedding ring clasped tightly in her hand was there to remind her of the emotion that had prompted this unguarded moment. Unfolding her fingers to reveal the ring to him, she said:

"Sully? I saw what's engraved in my wedding ring. I – don't… I…"

"Wanna know what Heartsong means?"

The corner of her mouth turned up: "I suppose it's how the Cheyenne call their soul mate, isn't it?"

"Yep, that's it, but not only…" He hesitated, wondering whether it was worth bringing back the memory of the terrible ordeal of her abduction. "How about I tell ya while we eat? How's that?"

She approved with a small nod, intrigued by the flicker of dismay that had flashed across his features.

Her curiosity and the prospect of listening to Sully spinning tales about Cheyenne customs on love and marriage prompted her to forgo some of her self-consciousness when he assisted her to get out of the tub and was the one to towel her dry. Of course, Sully did take advantage of the whole process to ply her with tender caresses, his hands lingering on her soft curves. She instantly thought back to their stolen moment during the cattle drive, only to realize that, when back then his ministrations had resulted in the gentlest stirring of desire within her, now this desire felt much more like a blazing fire, burning everything in its wake. She couldn't help but shiver and gasp when he gently ran the towel over her breasts and between her legs, her emotions conflicted between the fierce need to give in to the temptation of doing _this_ right here and now, and her annoyance at being unable to have any control on her feelings and reactions. The small voice of her reason, this time sounding very much like Sully's, told her that it was all right for her to enjoy his attentions and to revel in all those little things that deepened their intimacy, which surely were a natural part of a healthy marital relationship.

Sully smiled to himself at her reaction, though his own was again getting uncomfortable. But he had to admit that he quite enjoyed the way their honeymoon was turning out so far. He had feared that she would be much more awkward around him. She certainly had exceeded his wildest expectations, though it was clear that she had also overstepped hers and that she remained somewhat insecure about the still unfamiliar territory that was the physical part of their marriage. He had truly meant it when he had told her they had all the time in the world – and he knew there were no more maps for this than there had been for their courtship.

He finally put the large, damp towel on a bar by the door, and wrapped the folded quilt around her so she wouldn't have to go back to the bedroom without a stitch on, since she had forgotten to take her clothes and undergarments. She flashed him a bashful smile of thanks as she walked past him.

Michaela picked up the first dress and underclothes she could lay her hand on, and rushed back to the washroom, just in time to hear the knock on the door heralding their meal. She dressed the best she could, but unfortunately there was no Colleen, no sister or close friend, no chambermaid available to assist her with lacing her corset up. Shyly, she peeked into the room, and upon seeing that the waiter had already left, she called out to her new husband:

"Sully? Could you help me please?"

"Sure!"

She walked towards him, noticing that he had put on a dry shirt, its light grayish blue color a true compliment to his eyes. After a brief kiss on his cheek, she turned around to present her back to him, the bodice of her dress gaping open to reveal the loosened laces of the corset.

"Did ya really gotta put that thing on? Ya sure don't need a corset, Michaela!"

"I do, if I am to wear the gowns I brought along. The only thing I can wear without a corset is my travelling outfit. And I certainly can't wear it every day for two entire weeks, can I?"

"Why didn't you bring your regular skirts and blouses? It woulda been more comfortable for ya to get around! This is Denver, it ain't Washington or Boston…"

"We're staying in the most luxurious hotel of all Colorado, Sully. And we'll have to leave of the room, eventually," she murmured, her tone and comment clearly hinting that she hadn't envisioned spending their entire stay locked up in their suite.

"All right, all right, we'll make do," Sully conceded, thinking of his buckskins packed in his suitcase. Neither had he expected them to stay put all the time, no matter how exciting the idea of never leaving the bed and endlessly making love was. But he still was a man who needed the outdoors… like Michaela was a cultured Bostonian lady who enjoyed fancy dinners and operas. He had hoped they could rent a couple of horses, get a picnic basket and go for a ride out of the city once or twice. He decided to put that plan on the back burner for the time being. If necessary, the could buy simpler clothes for her to wear.

He yanked at the strings and hooks until the stiff contraption fit her body completely, then worked on fastening the clasps of the bodice, and concluded with a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"C'mon, let's eat before it gets cold," he whispered in her ear.

They ate in companionable silence, occasionally feeding one another, their eyes locked for the entire meal and sparkling with affection.

"So, are you going to tell me about the inscription in my ring?" Michaela asked, flashing him a coy smile that belied the innocence of her question. Sully grinned back, his heart rate accelerating a little: he wasn't sure she was even aware of how alluring she was when she looked at him like that, how flirtatious her voice could sound. Not that he minded, as long as it was only for his benefit, but the power of seduction that shone right out of her had already put her in delicate situations before, and would certainly lead to other misunderstandings in the future, especially now, for it seemed to have grown tenfold. Worse, she didn't appear to be cognizant of the effect her charm had on men, which made it all the more dangerous. Even now that she was his in every way, it didn't mean that they wouldn't cross path with men who wouldn't be immune to her beauty and wit, and maybe get the wrong ideas… he shuddered, fighting his imagination with all his might as it conjured up other men ogling Michaela, coveting her… Like One Eye. That particular Dog Soldier had been known to hold such hate against the whites that he had deemed below his status of a great Cheyenne warrior to do so much as to come into direct contact with his victims. But Sully had certainly not missed the lecherous gleam in his unique eye when he had leered at her… the memory brought him back to their initial conversation.

Again, Michaela saw Sully's loving smile change into a haunted expression she couldn't quite fathom. She reached out to squeeze his hand lightly with hers.

"It seems to be disturbing you, Sully. I'm sorry. If it brings back something painful to you… then we don't have to talk about this now, nor ever, if you'd rather – …"

"Nah, it ain't that. Not in the way ya think, I mean," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. His eyes cleared, and then he simply told her:

"You see, when the Dog Soldiers took ya, and I had to track 'em down, I came across a camp where I knew you'd been. All that was left behind were women and a few old men. No one would tell me where they had taken you next – that is… until I told 'em that I had to find you 'cause you were my Heartsong…"

"Sully…"

"That word… that one word… holds even more meanin' for me because, if I hadn't said it, that old woman wouldna probably never told me anythin', I wouldna found you in time to rescue you from One Eye… and who knows where we'd be right now?" He brought her left hand to his lips and kissed it fervently, silently thanking the Great Spirit for bringing them together.

Michaela was speechless. The magnitude of the meaning of the words engraved in her wedding band was even greater than she had imagined. And it made her all the more grateful, incredibly so, that this wonderful man was in her life. She wondered how she could ever love him back as much as he loved her. Swallowing the tears that threatened to spill, she scooted closer and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Even the most heartfelt "I love you" seemed cavalier in the face of what he had just revealed to her.

They hugged silently for a while, their hearts beating as one and their souls singing in perfect unison.


	6. Shall We Dance?

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**VI – Shall We Dance?**

It would have been all too easy to use the excuse of Michaela feeling rather emotional to coax her into making love again. Yet, Sully thought it better to wait another few hours. He fleetingly wondered how long his patience and self-restraint would hold out at the rate they were eaten away by that uncanny hunger that seemed to grow every minute since the moment he had closed the door of the train carriage. He needed a breath of fresh air – _fast_.

It took a lot of willpower for him to pull away, even more so with the way she was looking at him, her whole heart in her eyes. Such adoration – for him. That was still so unbelievable… He felt hardly deserving.

"Whatdya say we go for a walk around town, do some sightseein'?"

Her throat too constricted to speak, Michaela merely nodded. She could tell, by the way he had held her, the rasp in his voice, the fixity of his gaze upon her, and the subtle change in his body heat, that he would have loved nothing better than for them to stay in the room and be together in the marital sense once again. It was… _thrilling_… to feel oneself so badly wanted, needed. It was flattering in a way, and reassuring, for that meant that he was pleased with her. But it was frightening as well: their attraction to each other was so deep, like a warmly lit yet bottomless abyss that she feared would swallow her entirely if she were to totally surrender to its pull.

She had always prided herself in remaining independent, and so had he. Yet it seemed that practically since the day they had met, they had found themselves relying on each other more and more as the days went by. With time they had come to accept, even appreciate the fact that they needed one another. But now, this need had taken on a complete new meaning, a new depth – for her, and it seemed for him as well. So much had happened during the last hours, it was all so overwhelming… Would the magic ever fade? End? Or would it grow bigger, stronger, if such a thing was possible?

Before leaving, she made a short trip to the washroom to do her hair more neatly. She managed to style her long tresses into an elegant braided chignon in a matter of a few minutes, and then she put on her jewelry. As she looked through her jewelry case for the second pearl earring that matched the one she had selected, she found her engagement ring. With a satisfied smile, she slid it onto her fourth finger, right above her wedding band. Each ring complimented the other, and it would be long before she tired of admiring the way they graced her hand.

When she joined Sully at the door of their suite, she was still casting glances at the set. Sully noticed, of course, so he took her hand and brought it to his lips. He had such a way of kissing her hand… she had always enjoyed this gentlemanly gesture, and Sully's was so reverent and adoring that it made her feel like she was a fairytale princess. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and leant forward to kiss and hug him, like she had done when he had slipped the engagement ring on her finger on Valentine's Day.

"Let's go," she entreated when she pulled back, her eyes alight with love and tenderness, eager to explore the outside world through _their_ eyes. He answered with an indulgent smile, ready to follow her to the end of the world.

The afternoon went by pleasantly, as they strolled along the streets of Denver. The town was still by far much smaller than Boston or Washington, and with the damage caused by both the great fire and the devastating flood a few years before, old, scarred buildings rubbed shoulders with brand new ones and some that had not been built yet when Michaela and Sully had come just before the last Thanksgiving.

They didn't talk much, both privately contemplating their new status. Was it only yesterday that they were standing in front of the Reverend, their family and friends, pledging their love for one another and affirming their spiritual bond? Was it only yesterday that they had definitely sealed their union during an unforgettable train ride?

_Married…I'm married… I *am* married… to Sully…_ the single-minded thought was flitting about in Michaela's consciousness like a butterfly in a meadow full of wildflowers, and it seemed that her heart had been unable to settle back into a normal rhythm ever since… she couldn't remember. Ages ago. Since she had met him, really. He'd always had that effect on her. He had been the one who had truly brought her heart and soul to life, the only one who could elicit that thrill within her, no matter the circumstances, just by being there… Thus, it was the most logical thing that he was the one destined to awaken her body, to enlighten her to the many delights of wedded life.

Sully, on the other hand, was simply enjoying his new wife's presence and reveling in the fact that he had her all to himself. He could forget for a little while that she was a prominent citizen of Colorado Springs, both as the town's now well-respected doctor, but also as a highly influential council member. Jake might be the mayor, but it was still Michaela who had the last word in many a council meeting. Sully felt suddenly awash with pride as his thoughts revolved around her role in the lives of so many people, her dedication to everything she did. Still, not having to share her time and care with the world was too rare an occasion for him not to enjoy it to its fullest.

They had been demurely holding hands, only talking when trying to decide which way to go, but their eyes spoke volumes every time they met. Yet, having arrived at this point of his musings, Sully suddenly couldn't stop himself and pulled her into a tight hug, planting a firm kiss on her lips. Seizing her slender waist in his strong hands, he lifted her off her feet and exuberantly spun her around high in the air, not caring in the least about the curious, amused or disapproving looks passers-by might cast their way.

Michaela let out a squeal of surprise at his actions, before she burst into carefree, infectious laughter, with Sully joining in as he gently set her down again and held her close. As before, there was no need for words as each could positively feel the other's complete joy, and they resumed their walk, this time with their arms wound around one another's waist, pausing occasionally for a few sweet kisses.

They reached a park in the outskirts of town and sat for a spell on a bench. A few children were playing nearby, enjoying the sunny afternoon with their parents or their nannies. A young couple sauntered by, holding securely onto the hands of a chubby toddler who was babbling animatedly, her parents smiling bemusedly as they were obviously trying to make sense out of the endless string of gibberish that poured out of her tiny mouth.

Michaela bit her lip, unconsciously passing her hand over her abdomen, as she watched the family walking away with a twinge of wistful longing. More than anything, she yearned to give Sully a child, the little girl they both hoped for, who would be his flesh and blood – _their_ flesh and blood – a living testimony of their love that would definitely bind their family together. A gentle caress of his fingers upon hers and his tender kiss to her temple told her he had sensed her thoughts and shared them. She turned her head, her gaze locking with his. Was it the love she felt, their closeness, or the clear, vibrant sky above them, that made the blue of his eyes so mesmerizing at this moment? She couldn't tell. But the need to go back to their suite, or anywhere where they would be quite alone, rose from the very quick of her. Sully again read her thoughts – or more likely deciphered correctly the message in her slightly hooded eyes. He, too, felt suddenly a bit too much out in the open, though he wasn't quite ready to go back yet. He scanned the area around them, searching for a spot where they could steal a few minutes of privacy. His gaze was drawn back to her face, this time focused on her lips, longing to see their soft coral color turn to a deep, inflamed vermillion, to taste again their sweetness… Oh how he wanted to hear her sigh and feel its vibrations under his fingers as he caressed her throat, to breathe in the delicate yet intoxicating fragrance that emanated from her…

He stood up and pulled her decidedly toward the farthest exit of the park, until they reached a dense clump of trees. The area looked unkempt compared to the rest of the park, hinting at a lack of visits, which was the exact amount of seclusion they needed. After they had cast a last prudent look around and strained their ears to catch any suspicious noise to ensure they were indeed _alone_, they wasted no more time as their lips collided hungrily, the kiss deepening urgently, leaving them breathless in a matter of seconds. Of course, they both knew they couldn't allow themselves to let their passionate explorations go any further for they could still be interrupted by anyone. However, they remained steadfastly locked in each other's arms for some precious moments, reveling in the joy of being together, very much in love, and married at last.

After a while, they reluctantly pulled back, for their mutual longing, instead of being quenched, had only strengthened, once again igniting the primeval need to unite, so urgently that they were mere seconds away from sinking to the ground and giving themselves to each other. The realization hit Michaela hard, and the rosy flush of desire that was coloring her skin turned to the heated red of embarrassment. Here it was again, that whirlwind of conflicting feelings… Would she ever be free of them?

Since her confession the previous night, and knowing her as he did, Sully understood her sudden change of mood, as he observed wariness creeping into her expressive eyes and the subtle withdrawal in her attitude. He allowed his hold on her waist and shoulders to slacken so they could gain some time and space to compose themselves before heading back. He gently threaded fingers with her, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and led her out of the thicket. They resumed their leisurely stroll around the grounds of the park, their carefree mood restored.

A few minutes later, they neared a small gazebo, under the shade of which an old man was playing his fiddle, a worn out cap at his feet displaying a few meager dimes. The instrument looked as shabby as its owner, yet the tune that came out of it was entrancing, and one that made Michaela's eyes widen in recognition.

"Listen Sully, its _Women of Ireland_!"

Sully chuckled indulgently at her almost childlike excitement and the sparkle in her eyes as she turned to look at him. Grinning, he steered her up the few steps to the wooden floor of the gazebo, and then he initiated a waltz, trying his best to match his somewhat fumbling feet to the rhythm of the music. Michaela, too giddy to care that it was actually much too slow for any kind of dance, simply went along and savored the enjoyment of being in her husband's arms and dancing with him.

"The music's beautiful, don't you think?"

"Sure, but nowhere as beautiful as the woman of Ireland who's dancin' with me right now!" he answered lovingly, his compliment bringing without fail a blush to her cheeks. It seemed that the pink glow had never quite left her face since the moment she had walked down the aisle the day before, only getting more pronounced now and then, but never disappearing completely.

She almost retorted, out of her habit and need to always be exact, that she was only remotely Irish, but thought better of it, and just flashed him what she meant to be a grateful grin. But, like earlier during their lunch, she wasn't aware of the alluring radiance that emanated from her, which was enough to make Sully's heart skip several beats and fill to bursting. _She's so beautiful_, he thought. She was truly a sight to behold as she whirled so gracefully around with him. The light echo of their steps on the floorboards and the swish of her skirts and petticoats kept with the music, while her beaming smile made her enjoyment of dancing delightfully obvious. Holding her in his arms as they danced brought Sully momentarily back to the time he was forced to sit and watch her dance with William Burke in Boston, her hooped red dress swooshing merrily. How breathtaking she had been! But now, she was in _his_ arms, and to his eyes she was even more radiant. _Sweet revenge_…

The musician had to pause for a few minutes to tune up his violin before starting another melody, causing the newlyweds' bubble to burst. They left the gazebo almost regretfully, but not before giving the old man a generous tip to thank him for the entertainment.

Their steps brought them straight back to the hotel at great speed as they both longed to retreat to the privacy of their suite. They made a stop in the dining room to partake of an early supper, for which they were courteously directed to a table in a corner. Their relative isolation allowed them to exchange copious charged looks and gentle, discreet touches without being too conspicuous to the other patrons. They barely registered what was on the menu and even skipped dessert, so anxious were they to be alone.

However, the second Sully locked the door of their suite, Michaela froze with insecurity and nervousness. She certainly had come a long way since the night before, they had had the most wonderful time all day, and yet she couldn't stem her fears of being hopelessly inadequate or worse, too clumsily forward to please her husband. Her doubts were returning with a vengeance, and she was at a loss for how to remedy them.

"Frettin' again, ain't ya?"

She jumped in surprise, cutting her eyes to his face only to find it mere inches from hers, the blue of his eyes subtly hypnotic as he read her thoughts and feelings like an open book. She stood there, captivated like the prey that knows instinctively it cannot escape its raptor.

A slow, sensuous smile spread on his lips and he inched closer, his arms circling her waist in slow motion to press her flush against his chest. He then instilled a light sway to their bodies.

"It's kinda like a dance, one we gotta learn all the steps _together_," he breathed in her ear, the tickle delicious to her skin, "learn how the other's body works, reacts… to what, when… the right touches, the right kisses… the right pressure, the right rhythm… "

Michaela blushed to the deepest shade of crimson at the suggestiveness of both his words and his voice and at her body's reaction to them. She had a moment of wanting to flee from his embrace as a means to escape from the intensity of her feelings, yet she remained where she was, allowing his gentle rocking motion to soothe her into acceptance. She wanted so badly to please him the best she could. And in order to do just that, she needed to follow his directions. He needed her to give up her inhibitions, her shyness, like when he had taught her to share Whitman's erotic poetry without jumping up in embarrassment. Back then, he had told her that courting was like reading a book, all chapters of which she had to read in order… It seemed that marriage was like that, too, and if she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that the chapters regarding the conjugal duties were actually much more agreeable – more exciting, really – than what she had ever anticipated. Unfortunately, that didn't make them easier to read, it made them harder and more confusing. Yet she was resolute: the two of them had already overcome so many obstacles together that surely they could surmount the remaining barriers of her reserve. If anything, the events of the last thirty hours had been striking testimony that they were on the right track.

"If it's a dance, then… you lead – and I'll follow …" she breathed, her rather brazen intimation making her cheeks prickle with heat all the more.

Sully leaned back enough to see her face. If not for the intense blush, and the determination etched across her features, he would have seriously doubted what he had just heard. But he didn't need to have her say it twice. In fact he decided to play through that dancing idea of his.

He momentarily released her and took a couple of steps backwards before he bowed to her like a true gentleman, and asked: "May I have this dance, Madam?" the formality of his stance belied by his tender smile and playful tone.

Chuckling, Michaela plunged into her most lady-like curtsey, playing along, her amusement winning over her nervousness. She daintily placed her hand on his and stepped forward, so he could wrap his arm round her waist, as if they were indeed about to waltz.

"One…" He took another step and tightened his hold on her, so their bodies were pressed much closer than what would have been deemed appropriate in public.

"Two…" He brought their joined hands to his chest, his thumb tracing slow, sensuous circles onto the back of her hand. _Right pressure… right rhythm…_ He certainly knew what he was doing, because this simple, still chaste contact was enough to make her heart pound erratically.

"Three…" He brushed his nose against hers, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to her mouth, so she could feel his hot breath on her skin. When he made no further overtures, she understood it was her turn.

"One…" She placed a trail of delicate, teasing kisses along his jaw line.

"Two…" She ran her hand down his shoulder to his elbow, then back up.

"Three…" She pressed herself even closer, so that their joined hands were trapped in her cleavage, and he would only have to turn his hand and move his fingers to explore her décolletage. _How audacious_, she mused, her heart skipping another beat.

"One…" He brought her hand to his lips and kissed each fingertip in an excruciatingly slow fashion, all the while holding her gaze.

"Two…" With the back of his index finger, he traced the contours of her face, along her chin, down her throat, which fluttered like the breast of a cooing dove during mating season. He stopped barely an inch away from the neckline of her dress, totally bewitched by the sight of her breasts straining enticingly against the hard fabric of the corset with her heavy breathing.

"Three…" He deftly pulled out the few pins and clips that held the coiled braid in place and combed his fingers through her hair until it cascaded down her back.

"One…" She gently raked her fingers along his scalp and nape. That was when she noticed something different. She didn't ask aloud what he had done with his braid, but her quizzical look compelled him to tell her:

"It was a symbol of the past… Now that I'm startin' a new life with ya, had to let it go… move on…" She didn't pursue the matter, the flash of comprehension in her eyes the only thing needed to let him know she understood. After all, she knew of the Cheyenne custom of cutting one's hair as a sign of mourning.

Sully, not wanting to spoil their seduction, quickly recovered: "Now, where were we?"

A coy smile tugging up the corner of her lips, Michaela resumed her counting.

"Two…" The temptation of his lips was terribly strong, yet she managed to resist a little longer before kissing him. Instead, she undid the top buttons of his shirt and pushed the collar open, her hand slipping inside to find his warm skin and the hard muscles of his shoulder.

"Three…" Now that she had better access to his neck, she let her mouth explore it avidly. The feel, the scent, the taste of his skin against her lips and tongue intoxicated her senses to a dizzying point – the point of no return. She perceived his shivering and the heat of arousal that radiated from his body, and his response made her tremble as well, overwhelmed by the realization of the power she actually had over him.

Sully couldn't have been more pleased to have her taking to his little scheme like a fish to water. Yet, he swallowed painfully, all too aware that his desire was about to spin out of his control much sooner than he had expected. What he hadn't expected either, was that her touch would feel so enthralling, her voice would sound so enchanting, the perfume that wafted from her warm skin would seem so heady, or the sparkle in her eyes would electrify him so powerfully. In the fading light of dusk, without the benefit of a lamp, their colors shimmered like molten gold in striking harmony with the dark coppery silk of her hair and the rosy velvet of her skin, like she was a precious idol, a goddess to worship, at the feet of whom he could picture himself kneeling in adoration…

Giving himself a mental shake, for fear that their _dance _might be brought to an abrupt stop if he were to completely lose himself in admiring her, he silently debated whether to keep the proceedings to a slow pace or hasten them, only to realize that she was staring at him, puzzlement at war with expectation on her face. He thought of the time he had spent out in the woods to strengthen his stamina, and that gave him the necessary confidence to carry on with his original plan.

"One…" he allowed himself to give in to the urge of again tasting her lips, ever so softly suckling first the upper one, fine, delicate like a flower petal, then the bottom one, fuller, deliciously fleshy like a ripe fruit. Instinctively, she reacted, her mouth opening under his, her tongue ready to meet his, but he pulled back. "Huh – uh – uh," he teasingly chided as she raised herself up on her toes to kiss him back and deeper. He had felt the effect of that particular kind of kiss had on both of them, the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat reverberated against his chest and matching his own, and the telltale catch of her breath. _Good_.

"Two…" His mouth followed the path his finger has previously traced, leaving a wet trail down her neck and along the neckline of her dress, until he could press his lips to her cleavage, drinking in thirstily the softness there. Again, the same amorous flutter running down her throat and chest answered his ministrations._ Perfect_.

"Three…" His eyes remained riveted to her breasts. With the hard material of the corset barring his way to the exquisite treasures, he had to fight a sudden urge to go look for those bandage scissors so he could just cut the offending device off, and the rest of her clothing for that matter. Yet he managed to summon enough patience to undo one by one the tiny clasps of her dress until it sagged to her feet in a cloud of silk, revealing her feminine curves trapped in their prison-like corset and bustle. _What's she gonna do, now?_

"One…" Just as he had done with her dress, she reciprocated with his vest and dress shirt, her usually nimble and efficient fingers now fumbling with the buttons. Funny how something that easy – and ordinary! – could turn out to feel so… momentous when it came to her being with Sully!

"Two…" Now that the shirt was hanging open, her eyes were drawn to the shadowy line of tan flesh that stood out in sharp contrast with the light-colored cotton. She hesitated: should she unfasten his trousers now or keep that part of the disrobing process for a little later? Should she slide her hands inside his shirt? Should she dare caress his chest the way her instinct demanded? Could she allow herself to be so bold…? _I want you to do what feels right for you – I want you to listen to your heart, not to your mind_, he had told her this morning. Loving him was the rightest thing in the world – in _her_ world – and showing him just how much, its most natural consequence. Indeed, when she pressed her palms to his chest and let them glide up to nudge his clothes off his shoulders, it felt so right that she wondered why she had ever had any qualms. Again, she admired his virility, and she marveled at the sensation of his muscles tautening under the feather-light caress of her fingers.

"Three…" Revenge had never tasted sweeter as she got even with him for his heart-stopping, much too teasing kiss, by reaching up to bring his head down so she could return the favor, wickedly making the brush of her lips on his even lighter, but longer… so much longer… until he, too, tried to deepen their contact. When she pulled back, he implored: "'Chaela!" What was it with the way he was moaning her name? How peculiar that the needful utterance of it, in his unique, so seductive way, was enough to elicit such a thrill of longing that went straight to her core. How amazing to perceive the abrupt flow of blood surging through her veins, to feel her body already reacting and preparing to receive him intimately. Nature was definitely taking its course – Dorothy had been right.

They had both reached the point where they were more than ready to stop counting their moves. The ensuing kisses were predictably electric and feverish, yet they kept at alternating their movements as they finished undressing, caressing their way to each other's skin until nothing hampered their roaming hands anymore.

Night was closing in and they could barely see each other for the darkness that enveloped them, the few street lamps outside providing barely enough light to discern their silhouettes. Sully stepped away to crack a match and light one of the bedside lamps, then turned around to face her again, allowing her to get a good view of him as he stood still, naked and fully aroused. Breath hitched in her throat as she beheld the phenomenon, now truly acknowledging the effect she had on him and she raised eyes darkened with desire back to his face, so overcome that she even forgot to be self-conscious of her own nudity.

Yet, he sensed an uncertainty threatening to tarnish the sensual atmosphere, brought upon by his breaking the embrace only to light a lamp, and he couldn't let something so trivial thwart them, now could he? Especially when she stood before him, catlike eyes blazing and spellbinding like those of a panther on the prowl, her soft, lithe body finally exposed unabashedly.

"One…" He stepped closer. Her face broke into a full-fledged smile, the seductive glint still apparent under the screen of her lashes.

"Two…" She too approached him, and then their bodies touched from head to toe, their foreheads pressed together, their legs entangled, their fingers laced together.

"Three…" His mouth closed over hers, his kiss demanding and giving altogether, as he slowly guided her to the bed. Soon they were lying amidst the bedcovers, locked into a fierce embrace, both torn between that raging, almost animal desire that was flogging their senses, and the reluctance to put an end to such a delightful prelude to their encounter. Instinct won out, as their dance took a much more intimate turn.

Pinned under his weight, she waited with bated breath for the moment when he would join them as one. A long raspy sigh escaped her lips when he did and her entire body bristled into hard gooseflesh when he started moving within her. His hands sensuously slid down her thighs, gently guiding her legs around his waist, then glided up again to rest on her haunches. It was indescribable, overwhelming – she almost cried at the onslaught of pleasure as he initiated a grinding motion while clutching her bottom more firmly. She felt her heart about to explode the way it was beating so hard and fast, and she could barely breathe. Blindly, her hand shot outwards, groping around to find something to squeeze to help her withstand the almost unbearable tension that griped her body as she braced herself against the same mind-blowing experience she had gone through that morning. Her fingers encountered Sully's and they intertwined together immediately.

"Don't fight it," he panted near her ear as he struggled to keep his motion steady against the natural urge to move faster and stronger.

She wanted to tell him the very same thing, aware of the restraint he was imposing on himself waiting for her. The words just wouldn't come out: she couldn't bring herself to muster that kind of boldness yet. It felt a little more comfortable to place her free hand around his hip, applying a fluttering, tentative pressure on his buttock to communicate what she wanted. It was all the encouragement Sully needed to totally unleash his passion, his thrusts instantly picking up speed and power. In turn, it was all she needed to surrender herself to the tide, and the uncomfortable stiffness in her body yielded to a much more pleasant feeling of anticipation.

"Good… that's good," he crooned with a proud grin when he perceived the subtle change in her demeanor. The knowledge that she was pleasing him excited her further. She started quivering as she was getting very close to the release of her passion, her hold on Sully's hand tightening to let him know. Their eyes met again and locked. Sully was just as close to his own climax so, to give their dance of love its appropriate conclusion, he mouthed: "one… two… three…" the counting synchronized with his last three pushes. The effect was immediate and they both cried out, their pleasure emphasized by the sight, sound and feel of each other in the throes of ecstasy, their bodies shaking convulsively under the same force.

Then, with a lazy trail of moist kisses down her neck and breasts to her navel, Sully gently slid out and down to lay his head on the warm silk of her stomach, one of his hands still held firmly in hers, while the other came to rest caressingly against the curve of her waist.

When she heard him sigh several times and felt his body stop trembling and cool down, she assumed he was falling asleep, just like that, his head pillowed on her abdomen. The closeness he was maintaining was yet again something she had never dared to imagine and she again wavered between uneasiness, considering his somewhat provocative position between her legs, and utmost satisfaction. She reached down and softly ran her fingers though his hair, willing her touch to convey what she was feeling that she couldn't put into words.

This time, she couldn't fall asleep for she was kept wide awake by the memory of what had just happened vividly replaying over and over in her mind's eye, as well as in her flesh. Her body refused to calm down as ripples of pleasure still coursing on her skin like the aftershocks of an earthquake. She couldn't believe how uninhibited she had acted and if Sully hadn't let her know how much he had appreciated her receptiveness and passionate response, she would have been thoroughly mortified. To think that she hadn't given free rein to all the unspeakable urges and desires that had been flooding her! Where would they take her if she were to act upon them?

Sully, with his ear pressed to her torso, could tell that she wasn't calming down, her skin still hot and damp, her heart still pounding loudly and her heavy breathing resounding in the quiet room. He crawled back up so he could look straight into her eyes, a reassuring smile on his lips.

"You all right?" he murmured as his arms wound themselves around her in a protective embrace. She only saw loving concern in his eyes, nothing but pure, deep abiding love. How she loved him, too! Tongue-tied, a hard lump of emotions stuck in her throat, she merely raised her hand to ever so lightly stroke his cheek. Words never seemed more futile as he leaned across to press his lips to hers. There was neither urgency nor erotic edge in his kiss, only deeply heartfelt affection.

The kiss lasted a long, long time, as long as ten, maybe twenty or even a hundred of them would have, breaking up only to resume again unhurriedly. To Michaela's frayed nerves with the quite shocking discovery of just how intense and overpowering her own sexuality could get, his quiet, gentle affirmation of devotion was like a soothing balm. He didn't relinquish her lips until he was sure she was fully relaxed, and pulled away ever so slowly to watch her close her eyes and fall asleep. He then reached over her shoulder, very carefully as to not disturb her, to turn down the lamp, then back down to tug the white sheet over them, before resuming his deliberately chaste touch on her arms, shoulders and back.

Unknowingly, Sully had just proven wrong, for the third time, the one thing Dorothy and Elizabeth Quinn had mutually agreed on and warned his bride about, that all men, even the most devoted ones, turned away to sleep once they were done, and that there was no use to expect loving words and caresses from them afterwards. This last conscious thought lingered in her mind until sleep finally claimed her.


	7. Beyond Our Control

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**VII – Beyond Our Control**

_A flash of light – A ferocious eye boring into hers – grim, filthy hands clawing at her relentlessly, immobilizing her – and then… There he was! Relief washed over her as he cut the ropes that held her captive and swept her off her feet to carry her to their bed. The rumble of the train was deafening, and she couldn't hear what he was saying. She stood rooted to the spot as she watched him disappear under the quilt, instantly feeling lonely without the warmth of his arms around her. Why had he left her?_

_Another flash – she suddenly landed into one of the recovery rooms, face to face with her mother, who wore a scandalized scowl on her face. She didn't have time to reflect on how utterly nonsensical the succession of events seemed to her for a beam of sunlight drew her attention to the squirming form under the covers. She froze in horror when her mother tugged at the quilts to reveal naked likenesses of Sully and herself, caught up in a frenzied coupling, unrestrained, excited grunts and howls echoing eerily into the room and her ears. From where she stood, the whole thing seemed vulgar and so terribly bestial, nothing like the sensual tenderness she would have expected from them… Weren't they supposed to be in love? Surely this was nothing but a grotesque parody… She wanted to run out, or at least close her eyes and cover her ears to blot out the obscene spectacle before her, but she found herself once again totally paralyzed, transfixed._

_"Aren't you ashamed? Look at yourself, Michaela!" Elizabeth Quinn boomed indignantly. "The years your father and I spent trying to turn you into a well-bred, proper, decent," she enumerated, insisting heavily on the adjectives, "dignified, respectable woman… all gone to waste… to have you behave like… *this*! Aren't you ashamed-shamed-shame-SHAME-…"_

Michaela bolted upright, drenched in perspiration, disoriented by yet another abrupt change of surroundings. Where was she? Her heart pounded in panic as she tried to regain her senses. It was night time, as indicated by a weak moonlight filtering through the lacy curtains. The mattress beneath her was much softer than the one she'd been sleeping on for the past three years. She was in a hotel room… Then she became conscious of the satiny softness of the bed sheets against her skin – her _bare_ skin. And a presence right beside her, one strong arm protectively and warmly wound around her midsection. Sully's. A musky scent hung in the air around them, reminiscent of that earlier moment when they had shared their love. No, it had been neither disgusting nor disgraceful. She had felt loved, cherished, desired to the deepest level, beyond measure…

"Michaela? What's wrong?"

_Oh no, I woke him up_… Just what she needed, to have him worried, or worse, frustrated with her for being unable to shrug off the puritanical teachings she had grown up with!

"Bad dream? Feelin' poorly?"

She reached for his hand to give it a reassuring pat. No use telling him the already fading details of that silly dream.

"Yes… yes, a bad dream, but I'm fine – really. Go back to sleep. It's nothing."

But Sully wouldn't let it rest:

"How come ya had a nightmare?" He gently rubbed her stomach in a circular motion. " Somethin' ya ate?"

It could have been the perfect excuse behind which to hide, and yet she couldn't bring herself to jump on it. And of course Sully picked up on her lack of answer.

"Michaela? Please… tell me?"

Michaela fidgeted a little, at a loss for an adequate answer. Sully could feel her nervousness and even discerned the heat of embarrassment emanating from her. And the only thing that could embarrass her that he knew of was…

"Is it 'bout us makin' love? Did I do somethin' that made ya uncomfortable?"

Michaela couldn't help being amazed. Though he couldn't possibly know what the dream had been about, much less its hidden meaning, he had guessed that it was somehow related to their intimacy.

"No, you did nothing wrong, nothing at all – please… Truly, it's nothing for you to be concerned about," she assured him, doing her best to keep her tone steady. _No, it's just that I'm not supposed to feel the way I do for you, I'm not supposed to love and want you as strongly as I do… and I'm not supposed to derive any kind of carnal pleasure from my wifely duty to you without feeling positively sinful_. Despite the honest conversation they had shared their first evening as man and wife, despite the fact that the part of herself that strongly opposed the austerity with which she'd been raised had enabled her to find joy with her husband right from the start, there remained that skein of restrictions knotted in the recesses of her consciousness. She felt as if she had tugged at the wrong end and only succeeded in coiling it tighter.

Sully wondered whether she was being entirely truthful. Never one to pry usually, he thought of keeping his own counsel, to allow her to open up to him in her own time if something was troubling her, yet, his instinct told him not to let this matter go.

"You havin' second thoughts, maybe?"

"Second thoughts?"

"About us together…"

"Of course not!" she retorted a bit too forcefully, actually confirming Sully's suspicions. "Why should I?" she added dismissively, in a tone that told Sully that she was more trying to convince herself, than him.

"I'm sorry, Michaela…" he told her softly, with a light caress to her arm.

Not expecting this, she turned to face him.

"What do – what are _you_ sorry about, Sully?"

"I promised ya we'd take it easy, but obviously, it wasn't easy 'nough…" he groused.

Michaela sensed a flutter of panic at the pit of her stomach as she tried to interpret his meaning and the frown that was creasing his forehead. Had she upset him? Was he disappointed in her now?

"Sully, no, really, it's fine…you've been most gentle and attentive. I – I… I'm telling you, there's nothing for you to worry about."

"Michaela, you're my wife, now… More than ever, you outta tell me when somethin' upsets ya, even if it's somethin' that seems silly to ya. We've always been honest with each other, even when what we had ta say might hurt the other…"

"May I expect the same from you, Sully?"

"Sure…" he conceded uncomfortably, suddenly realizing how hard it would be to tell her _everything_, the way he wanted her to do for him…

Michaela perceived his hesitation, and debated within herself about how much of the dream she should actually reveal to him. The part with One Eye? No. He might feel guilty for bringing it up when telling her about the inscription in her wedding ring. And certainly, she couldn't possibly give him the embarrassing details of the nightmare... She took in a resolved, deep, cleansing breath, and settled back down into his awaiting arms. They lay like this for a little while, both aware that each was still wide awake and waiting for the other to say something – anything. Finally, she allowed herself to tell him:

"Remember our talk just after we arrived here?"

"Yeah…"

"I asked you not to be upset with me if sometimes my reactions are not what they should be…"

"And I told ya not to worry about that." Suddenly it dawned on him that maybe she was embarrassed with herself, and with the way her instincts were taking over when it came to being with him. He briefly smiled inwardly as he recalled her enthusiastic response to many an encounter, even before they were married, all those stolen moments when she had let down her guard enough for him to see that other side of her. He had made the mistake of underestimating the impact her rigid upbringing would have had on her thoughts about him, about the intimacy they were now sharing. He had been blinded by the way she had warmed up to him and to his loving since they had begun courting, by that surging, magnetic force that had drawn them to each other from the beginning, this attraction they both had been powerless to resist. And if there ever was _one_ thing Michaela loathed above anything else, it was feeling powerless. He had witnessed its manifestations often enough… and on top of that, was the strict mentality around which she had lived right up until she had come to Colorado and into his life. Boston was, after all, well known for its fierce Puritanism, going as far as permeating through the coexisting, usually less scrupulous religious beliefs, seeping deeply into the Bostonians' everyday life and behavior.

"That's all right, Michaela… I know where ya come from, I know how things are in Boston, how straight-laced people are there, 'bout bein' prim and proper all the time, even between married folks… Now, tell me, that nightmare o' yours was 'bout you feelin' uncomfortable at lettin' all that go, right?"

"How… how do you – ?"

"Ain't hard to figure it out, knowin' ya…" He tenderly pressed his lips to her forehead. "I should've known better than to let things escalate so fast…"

"In case you forgot, you gave me the choice to stop things if I didn't feel up to it…"

"Yeah – well…"

"Really, Sully, I'm fine – more than fine. You make me feel so incredibly loved!"

"I'd better, 'cause that's how you make me feel, too," he returned lovingly. "Think you can go back to sleep, now?"

"Yes… Thank you, Sully – for understanding." She truly meant it. What had she ever done to deserve someone like him, so compassionate, so sensitive and respectful of her needs and feelings? She let out a deep sigh of relief, as her heart swelled with so much love that she was once again overcome by that strange need to melt and fuse with him, _within_ him, so that they would be one forever. It even overpowered the physiological instinct to mate in order to procreate. It felt so much more – almost the opposite, to be true. It was coming straight from an innermost part of her soul she never knew existed before the very first time they came together on the train.

"Anytime," he whispered against her temple, kissing it once more. She shifted a little, her head tilted back to offer her lips to his kiss, and he willingly obliged. He had intended it to be short and sweet, but the feel of her mouth opening under his, her tongue meeting and welcoming his, overwhelmed his senses. Yet, mindful of her vulnerability and insecurities, he steeled himself against the impending reawakening of his arousal, determined to give her more time to be completely at ease with every aspect of their life together. He feared that, if she perceived the physical reaction he was barely holding in check, she might feel some sort of obligation to submit to his desire, even if she convinced herself that she wanted to.

When she pulled away to catch her breath, he cradled her closer to his chest, his caresses onto her back gentle and soothing, and to which she responded with a feather-light stroking of his chest and shoulder, occasionally brushing his skin with a soft kiss. She finally drifted off, the soft sound of her deep breathing and the steady rise and fall of her chest under his palm lulling. Yet he remained alert, his hand keeping the rhythmic movement up and down the length of her back. Having her in his arms like this still felt like some extravagant dream, so new and exciting, no matter how many times he had envisioned what it would be like. The way her love and trust for him were stronger than all the doubts and fears she still harbored, filled him with the most uplifting feeling he had ever known. It went far beyond the primal male pride one would feel when succeeding in winning over the woman who filled their dreams or the possessive, jealous instinct when one thought their beloved the most coveted treasure in the world… Its depth and intensity scared him almost as much as it had when he had realized that no amount of denial, guilt or fear could have stopped his love for her from blossoming. He suddenly smirked in the darkness as the irony of the situation hit him: he, too, had been having control issues, though they were of a different nature.

Well, he certainly hoped that the day would come when they wouldn't need to worry about keeping such a tight control over their feelings and actions anymore. He was confident that their commitment to each other was strong enough to endure any hardship life would throw their way, and that their love would be as eternal as a diamond and weather the passing of time without losing its force and brilliance. Of that, she was also convinced. He could still remember so clearly that moment when, raising sparkling eyes to him, she had stated, "When we're together, we can do so much," her faith in their bond as unwavering as his own…

* * *

_Sunday May, 22nd, 1870_

Sully was somewhat surprised to wake up a couple of hours later to the rosy light of dawn, when he had the impression that he had only blinked. He remembered Michaela having a nightmare, their late night conversation, the way they had cuddled up… in fact she was still enfolded in his arms, her cheek so soft on his chest and her hair like a silk wrap draped about her shoulders and spilling onto his arm. Her face was serene, with only a hint of a smile. The temptation to kiss her awake was hard to resist. Should he let her sleep? _Well, we could take a nap later durin' the day_, he reasoned. Today, they could enjoy a lavish breakfast in bed, and maybe Michaela would want to go to church.

He also thought about the clothing problem. Maybe he could wire Colleen, or Rebecca, and have them ship a bag with a couple of her regular skirts and blouses, for if the rest of the dresses she had packed were indeed the same kind as the one she had worn the day before – well, his plans for any kind of excursions out of the city would simply be out of question. Not that he didn't enjoy the sight of Michaela clad in her fanciest dresses, for it brought back some pleasant memories of the time they had spent in Boston, just the two of them, or during their stay in Washington – until it had turned sour, of course. Anyway, he would find her breathtakingly beautiful no matter what she was wearing. He silently chuckled as he pictured the cowboy attire when she had posed as "Cousin Bill" – the baggy clothes and large hat concealing her femininity, her face darkened with soot and that big wad of licorice stuck in her cheek, the shade of the large brim only bringing out even more the power of her entrancing eyes – and what about that _very revealing_ trapeze outfit! He had never gotten around to telling her that the reason he had failed to catch her at their first attempt at the flip was that he had momentarily lost his concentration, in spite of all his efforts to focus only on grabbing her hands securely – her_ hands_, not some other parts of her anatomy… He had let his eyes stray for but a second to her shapely legs clad in black tights, the brief but intense fantasy of running his hands up her calves and thighs to the curve of her hips flashing through his imagination…

A soft sigh escaping her mouth brought his attention back to the present. Michaela was still sleeping, only her smile was more pronounced, as if she was having a pleasant dream. Deciding that breakfast could wait a little longer, he remained still, content with watching every subtle change of expression displayed on her angelic face.

Half an hour later, as her features were still again, Sully leant in closer, gently touched his lips to hers, and relished in the thrill of having her respond immediately and without reserve.

Something tugged at Michaela's consciousness, something as warm and inviting as the cocoon she was enfolded in. _Mmmh_…The shape, the warm softness and so distinctive taste of those lips, the heat of the breath filling her mouth just as the tongue slipped in to meet and dance with hers – _oh yes, how they danced_ – and the deliciously rough tickle of the morning stubble that grazed her chin and cheek… The touch – _that touch!_ – of the hand upon her flank, with its thumb ever so lightly brushing the underside of her breast! She would know them anywhere – she would know _him_ anywhere! Her heart pounded as her body instantly warmed and arched into his embrace in recognition. A long shudder coursed up and down her spine as his palm stroked its way up to her nape and she sighed repeatedly into his mouth in sheer delight.

Her fervent response to his kiss threatened to shatter Sully's good resolutions once again. He was pretty sure that she was still half asleep and merely reacting instinctively – well, he was certainly enjoying how natural her reaction felt! But he didn't want to jeopardize her trust by taking undue advantage of that part of herself she was still grappling with.

He forced himself to pull away, doing his best to do so as gently as he could – for both their sakes. That did little to block out the painful stab of frustration, unfortunately. For her, as well – she moaned in protest. Her eyes flew open, clouded with a mix of sleep and desire, and then they cleared a little as she awoke fully at last. He couldn't suppress his indulgent smile when he saw the so familiar blush appear on her face.

"Mornin'!"

"Good morning," she answered in a small, self-conscious voice, as her body kept humming with unfulfilled yearnings, and her memory filled with the events of the previous night. She was immensely grateful for Sully's amazing self-control, as she realized that he was again holding back out of respect for her, but at the same time… how could she let him know that it was all right to… to do it – to be intimate again? How could she convey that not only did she not mind at all, but that she needed _this_, too, without coming across as wanton? She tried her best to convey the message through an intense, unwavering gaze, and a firmer hold onto his shoulders. And, as if it had a mind on its own, her knee rose up slightly, prompting her leg to brush against his subtly – yet unequivocally. Sully gulped as his body responded at once to the silent invitation, his arousal so potent that he barely managed to stop himself from joining them together right there and then.

"Are ya sure?" he breathed out unsteadily. "You really want to?"

The huskiness in his voice and the throb of his manhood against her thigh were enough to trigger the heavy pounding of blood coursing through her lower abdomen – that reaction her clinical self would have clearly identified as the female equivalent of the male's more visible one. But such musings on human physiology were the last things on her mind as she acquiesced mutedly, her slight nod the last vestige of timidity before letting herself be consumed in the uncontrollable flames of their desire.

Nice and easy went out of the window as a chain reaction exploded between them. Each sensation and each ripple of pleasure fueled the next until it swelled into one powerful wave that crashed down on Sully before he even sensed it coming.

"Oh no," he groaned. But it was too late: there was nothing he could do to delay his climax. He froze, every one of his muscles tightening forcefully. Yet, his mind, instead of getting numbed as it was bound to do, reeled with self-berating at his inability to stay in control and what he perceived as nothing but selfish satisfaction – if one could call what he had felt satisfaction! No, it was only a reflex… not to mention that the urgency of their lovemaking had very possibly disagreed with Michaela. So much for vowing to give her _time_! He pulled back to gauge her state of mind, dreading to read in her eyes disappointment and frustration, or worse, disgust or pain.

He saw nothing of the sort. Quite the opposite: there was a light dancing there, he noticed in surprise.

Michaela was just as astonished as he was as she tried to process what had just happened. It had been… _different_, to say the least, but not in an unpleasant way. Fulfillment had been neither explosive nor earth-shattering – but she could feel its effects just the same, suffusing her with its all-encompassing warmth. Of course, her experience was still far too limited to apprehend to its fullest the wide range of emotions and sensations a woman could feel when it came to physical love. Right now, she was feeling lighter than a feather while rather vivified, as if she had just been treated to a very energetic massage. She bestowed an appreciative smile on him and, reassured, he returned it. Suddenly, the impetuosity with which they had just made love – and on her impulse, no less – struck her, causing her to giggle nervously while her cheeks turned from pink to a fiery red. Taken aback at first, wondering if he had misinterpreted her grin, he carefully studied her countenance. It was the same smile and the same glint in her eyes that he had seen during that sweet moment when she had discovered the carved headboard of their bed and they had kissed with such unexpected passion on the floor. He chuckled in turn, both from the memory and from her infectious laugh. Their chortles escalated, fed by the other's mirth, until they were laughing openly at how wild it had been. It was the triumphant laughter of elated lovers when they followed their instincts without a care in the world, save their love for each other. It sprung also from the secret foreknowledge that whether they would allow themselves to get carried away so spontaneously or purposefully build up their anticipation, their future encounters promised of renewed pleasurable discoveries.

A little while later, they were still in bed, but this time, they were dressed and satisfying another kind of hunger with a copious and tasty breakfast.

"I could get used to this soooooo easily…" Michaela sighed dreamily.

"Never had breakfast in bed before?"

"Only when I was ill, as a child – which can hardly compare," she retorted wryly.

"These two weeks are gonna pass awful quick, like ya said to the kids the other day. So I say we'd better make the most of it, don't ya think?"

"Mmh, you're right."

"'Sides, it's gonna do you a lotta good to get some peace an' quiet."

"The same can be said for you, Sully. After all that's been going on before our wedding…" She paused, sobered by the still painful memory of Washita.

"And now the train's gonna run every day through Colorado Springs, bringin' lotsa new folks out there, more patients for ya…"

She sensed what he wasn't telling her: more patients to care for would mean less time to spend with him. But now, it was different. Now she was no longer afraid to spend time with him _alone_. If anything, from now on, she would more likely long to be alone with him – quite often. Her eyes and voice earnest, she vowed to him:

"We'll make time, Sully. _I_ will make time for you, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," he grinned. He reached for her waist, pulling her into his arms, and whispered in her ear, "I'll hold you close." They shared a laugh at the double-entendre, before leaning in for a long, leisurely kiss. Time got away from them again as they lost themselves in the embrace. The feel of each other quickly rekindled the sparks of their morning loving. There was nothing to stop them from yielding to their seemingly insatiable hunger, and yet they pulled back at the same time, chuckling breathlessly. Words were unnecessary to express what they were both thinking _– how about enjoying another relaxing day out and then, coming back for more intimate exploring…_

As she took a few cleansing breaths while she went to the wardrobe to fetch her wrap, Michaela's mind flew back to the upsetting dream she had had a mere few hours before. She remembered more the uneasiness she had experienced when she had been startled awake than the nightmare itself, and most of all she recalled how her qualms had dissolved, washed away by his devotion to her. The love they shared was a blessing, and whatever way they chose to express it was nothing to feel ashamed of. Boston was her birthplace, where she had grown up and become a woman – but looking back now, it seemed that coming to Colorado, meeting Sully and falling in love with him was what had marked her true passage into adulthood, much more than obtaining her degree and practicing medicine ever did. Now… _where you live is in here_, he had told her, pointing to his heart – where _he_ lived was in her heart, her soul and her flesh. If home was indeed where the heart is, then…

She swiveled on her feet toward the one who would be her home all of her days.


	8. An Afternoon to Remember

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

_**Author's comment: **Happy Christmas to everyone. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter as a little present from me. I don't know where to begin to thank you all of you for taking the time to read and leave a review. And some very special thanks to Kruemi and Linda for their incredible support and always pertinent advice.  
_

**VIII – An afternoon to remember**

As he had expected, Michaela had wanted to go to church, so he accompanied her to the closest one, a few blocks from their hotel. Afterwards, he wouldn't remember a single word Reverend Carlyle had said. For an agonizingly long hour, all he could do was to shut everything out, including his own train of thoughts. She was sitting so close, and even though they weren't touching at all, her warm presence was overwhelming. Her scent! _Oh that scent of her_! Not just her perfume, but her womanly scent – her secret one, the one only he could identify through the heavy layers of clothing. Maybe he wasn't actually breathing it in, maybe its vestiges were merely lingering in his memory. Either way, it was maddening to have her body only inches from his and not be able to reach out to hold her tight, not to take her small hand in his and caress it. Good thing she couldn't read his thoughts, for she would have been appalled that he could think of her in such an intimate way – in church of all places! He was a little self-conscious himself about those powerful, almost uncontrollable urges he kept having to touch, kiss, be so close to her every second of every minute of every hour he would spend in her presence. Was she that irresistible, or was he no better than those men who would consider women as mere objects that had been created only to satisfy their needs? No, no way, he would never, ever view Michaela, his beloved wife, his Heartsong, like that. Never would he have grabbed what wasn't rightfully his. Though they were now married, and that either socially or legally, it was regarded as acceptable – even expected in some circles, he thought with a shudder – for husbands to force themselves upon their spouses, he just couldn't contemplate being intimate with his wife without her unequivocal and full consent. Yet, having to hold still like this reminded him of those early, awkward days of their courtship, when he'd had to remain "hands off" most of the time…

Little did he know that Michaela was not paying as much attention to the sermon as he thought she was. Since he was avoiding looking at her, he missed her reddening cheeks and flustered expression, when she realised that, as hard as she tried to concentrate on what the Reverend was lecturing them about, her focus kept straying to another set of features and another voice. He was right there, temptingly close to her, within immediate reach. She could have sat a little closer… Maybe she could slide _closer_, inch by inch – no one would notice, or would they? Or she could slip her hand into the crook of his elbow, couldn't she? No one would have reason to frown upon that, right? It wouldn't be like she was sitting on his lap, snuggling up and kissing him – though her body urged her to do so, much to her consternation. _Get a grip on yourself, Michaela, for goodness' sake! _At least she managed to send a prayer heavenward, asking the Lord for forgiveness, hoping He would only smile upon her with indulgence, considering that they were newlyweds…

* * *

For lunch, he treated her to a delicious meal at the small café where they had already eaten the couple of times they'd been to Denver together during their engagement. The food and the hospitality could measure up with Grace's, making them feel right at home. Then they went for a leisurely walk along the banks of Cherry Creek, chatting about the children, wondering how everybody was doing in Colorado Springs and what her mother and sisters had planned to keep Colleen and Brian – and themselves – busy. The conversation reminded Sully of the telegram he wanted to send about the clothes. He turned to Michaela:

"D'ya think we could stop by the telegraph office? We could wire the kids to let them know we're all right, and ask them how are things at home."

"Oh, Sully, I was supposed to wire Mother as soon as we arrived in Denver!" she gasped, shocked at how distracted she had let herself be, so absorbed she had been with her new husband. She was almost surprised that no reproving telegram had come yet from her mother. But to give Elizabeth credit, she had surprisingly mellowed in time for her youngest daughter's wedding, even giving in to Michaela's plea to give her away. What had led her to such a change of heart? Michaela was left to wonder – had Sully said something to his mother-in-law? She wouldn't put it past him.

On their way to the telegraph office, Sully told her of his plans to go out riding and the need to have more practical clothes for her. Too relaxed and blissfully happy to even be annoyed, Michaela simply laughed at herself and readily admitted that she hadn't actually cared that much about the packing process and had let her mother and sisters talk her into taking her fanciest dresses rather than the ones she would have preferred to be comfortable. After all, she had enough of them to fit into every situation, didn't she? She knew exactly what to ask for to Colleen…

Once the telegrams were sent, they resumed their stroll.

"What d'ya wanna do this afternoon?" Sully asked. They hadn't made definite plans as to what to do or see during their stay, as they had not expected Elizabeth to extend their reservation from five to fifteen days as a wedding gift to them both, and they had assumed than they would have had to make the most of their privacy by staying in their room as much as possible.

Michaela remained silent for a moment, pondering their options. What did she want to do, indeed? The answer was as crystal clear as the vast expanse of blue sky above them.

"I don't really care, as long as I'm with you."

Sully chuckled briefly at her candid answer, just as instantly sobered and deeply moved by how trusting and innocent her words sounded to his ears. This vulnerable, ingenuous side of her was even more endearing now, in sharp yet well-balanced contrast of the more seductive and sensual part of her nature that was blossoming right before his eyes.

"I got an idea, but I need to get a few things from our room first. D'you mind?"

"What are you up to?"

"You'll see…" he whispered noncommittally.

* * *

An hour or so later, they were settled as comfortably as possible under the shade of a large linden tree in early bloom, its sweet honey-like smell warmed by the afternoon sun and wafted around by a gentle breeze.

Sully had changed into one of his loose shirts and his customary buckskins, to the priceless astonishment of one of the porters when he had asked the young uniformed man if the hotel could provide them with a quilt or blanket that could be spread on the grass… he was presently reclining on a thin, plain coverlet, his head cushioned on his wife's lap, leafing through a well-worn book that had belonged to her father, while Michaela, hampered by her corset and bustle, could only demurely kneel on the blanket, waiting patiently while he scanned through the dog-eared pages, looking for something she might enjoy. When he had picked up the poetry books, at first he had wavered for a few seconds between Walt Whitman and the couple of other books of poetry he had brought along, but then had decided to keep _Leaves of Grass_ for a little later, when the full power of its verse would reach into their souls and they could abandon themselves to the magic of the stirring words. He was looking forward to the experience, but it would have to hold for at least a few more hours.

Finally, he found something well suited for the occasion and started reading aloud:

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
Admit impediments. Love is not love  
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove:  
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark,  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
Within his bending sickle's compass come:  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved._

He looked up from the book to gauge her reaction to his reading. Michaela had been absent-mindedly fingering his hair, her eyes dreamy and a vague smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Actually she had been more mesmerised by the sound of his voice than from the meaning of the verse itself, for she already knew the poem, so when he grew silent, she focused again on his face. Her smile widened as she gazed down to see his eyes fixed upon her. Under the green canopy of the tree, with rays of sunlight flowing haphazardly through the foliage following the whims of the wind, his irises had turned an intense shade of turquoise, the kind of which she imagined could have belonged to those faraway seas bathing the tropical islands described in some adventure novels, their blue so vibrant under cloudless, infinite skies. And then, the connection between the sonnet and their relationship registered to her consciousness.

"It was beautiful, Sully," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion and eyes shimmering with a hint of tears.

"That's what I think of our love – of our marriage, Michaela."

That did it. A lone tear escaped the corner of her eye before she could stop it. She raised her hand to brush it away, but Sully moved even faster and caught it first. She gave him a tremulous smile.

"We've made it, Sully. We set off without a map, but I feel like we've reached that place where my heart wanted us to be."

Sully didn't need her to elaborate further as her words instantly summoned the memory of the quite rocky beginning of their courtship and that highly symbolic moment when he had brought her to his private spot on the side of the mountain. He had known even then – their destinies, as well as their hearts, were inextricably interwoven.

She bent forward, intending to kiss him, but the rigid whalebones of her corset held her upright. She winced slightly, her hand going to her pinched side.

"You were right," she breathed very softly, as if afraid someone else might hear her. "This corset _is_ really a chastity belt – it won't even let me kiss you." Her cheeks coloured a little.

He sat up and swivelled around so that his face was mere inches from hers, his answering smile hovering between mischief and indulgence.

"Won't be much longer before we get ya out of that rig for good, and ya'll get to kiss me all you want…" He gave her lips a soft, teasing peck. "As for havin' made it… I got a feelin' that the journey ain't over yet. I'd say we're reached an important milestone, and we can stop for a little while, before settin' out again for the next stretch…"

She understood his metaphor at once: their life together was to be an odyssey interspersed with stopovers – the birth of the children they might have together, the Cooper children starting out on their own, joyous events – moments of grief, too, when they would have to lean on each other… _to have and to hold… for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as you both shall live. _They would grow old together and, God willing, die in each other's arms.

Simultaneously they leant toward each other and their lips met in a prolonged, tender kiss that sealed their hearts' promise as deeply and earnestly as it had when they had pronounced their vows. The kiss gradually grew more intense and intimate as they poured their entire hearts into it, sending their souls soaring as high as any lovemaking ever could. Everything they were to each other was conveyed through their joined lips…

It was debatable how long it would have taken for them to break off the kiss if not for a very loud clearing of throat coming for a passing-by groundskeeper. They pulled apart, a bit flustered, as the man eyed them sternly for a while before walking away, looking over his shoulder a couple of times as if making sure the couple wouldn't resume such an improper behaviour in _his_ park. Once he was finally out of sight, Michaela and Sully chuckled nervously, their forehead pressed together. Words were once again unnecessary: their hearts were singing in complete harmony.

For another hour or so, Sully went back to reading poetry to her, his head once again nestled on her lap, and her fingers wound into his hair, occasionally brushing his cheek or his brow lovingly. He eventually stopped and rose to his feet when he felt her shift uncomfortably. He then pulled her up and into his arms. With nobody in sight, he just couldn't resist the temptation of once again cupping her adorable face to answer the irresistible call of those lips of hers. No woman could possibly have softer, sweeter lips than Michaela's – nor so incredibly responsive. That was how he had instinctively known, from the first time their lips had touched on her birthday, then when they had begun courting, in spite of her reserve and inexperience, that there was a place deep inside her that only he could hope to reach and fully unlock one day. Now that she had let him in so completely, he also knew why he had felt so compelled to get to that place: it was home. _She _was home.

Michaela couldn't refrain from following her heart's desire either, as her emotions from the past two days seemed to be converging to that very moment, making her forget that they were quite out in the open and that the groundskeeper could very possibly swoop down on them again. When Sully slowly stepped back to lean against the tree trunk, she followed him, actually pushed him further, as again and again, they tried to assuage their thirst for those endless, intensely loving, extremely tender kisses.

"Enough of this, you two!" boomed a deep, indignant voice. It was the keeper again, coming back from his rounds. Rather sheepishly, the startled couple muttered an excuse. Sully gathered their belongings and, with Michaela's hand firmly held in his, quickly left their beautiful, quiet spot, now that their privacy had been disturbed. Needless to say that they were both more than looking forward to being able to get out of town, provided that Colleen had been able to pack what her mother had asked for and put the package in the earliest train bound to Denver. Neither of them wanted to face that groundskeeper again, if they could help it.

"You all right, 'Chaela?" Sully asked on their way back to their hotel, squeezing her hand consolingly. Michaela's instinct told her that he was probably worried that she might relapse into Boston-like bashfulness after being caught red-handed, or more exactly, red-faced. But to her own surprise, she didn't feel as embarrassed as she might have expected herself to be. They had not behaved improperly – they were only kissing, after all! And they had chosen a rather secluded spot away from the ponds and the play areas for the children, where most people seemed to gather.

"I'm fine, Sully," she told him, her smile genuine. "It's not like we've been doing… well, you know," she added with a wry little raise of her eyebrows.

"You're right."

It was a pleasant surprise indeed to have her so relaxed, even amused, after an incident like this, and yet, Sully remembered that she had recovered just as quickly when Matthew had stumbled upon them sharing a rather intimate moment. Back then, she hadn't had her blouse on, and the straps of her camisole had hung quite low, showing more skin than anyone would have bargained for.

They giggled and bantered about it until they were back at their hotel. As they crossed the lobby, they spotted a small crew of porters carrying instrument cases toward the main dining room.

"Looks like there's gonna be a string quartet playin' tonight at dinner," Sully presumed, turning to his wife just in time to see the slightly wishful expression that flashed through her eyes. He grinned, and led her up the stairs to their suite, where he started changing back into his tuxedos without so much as a word to her. Her sparkling eyes rewarded him as she realised his intent, and she rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly. Her childlike excitement was contagious, and suddenly, he found that he didn't mind the suit so much anymore, if it meant seeing her so gleeful at the mere idea of a fancy dinner and dance with him.

Being reminded of their first outings in Boston had prompted Michaela to choose the black and silver dress she had worn that very first, delightfully exciting, evening together. When they returned down to the lobby to be escorted to the main dining room, many heads turned to watch the handsome couple walk by, Michaela such a picture of absolute radiance that she simply outshone every other woman in the room. Sully felt about ready to burst with pride as he saw the numerous looks of admiration and envy they, _she_ attracted all through dinner.

As they were waiting for the main course after particularly delicious hors d'oeuvres, the string quartet began playing a tune that seemed oddly familiar to Sully, but he couldn't place it at once, He cast a look at Michaela, whose eyes brightened in recognition. A strong sense of déjà-vu hit him, and suddenly it came to him. What were the odds? It was the same piece they had danced to, the night he had taken her to the overly expensive restaurant in Boston, when she had worn the very same ball gown. Only tonight, the quartet seemed to play a little faster, and with a more upbeat lilt than what the Bostonian quartet had managed to produce. Sully mused briefly that the difference of rhythm between those two times could very well match the dramatic change in their relationship, tentative and tense at first, now full of optimism and enthusiasm.

Resolutely, he stood up and circled the table, offering his hand to her.

"Shall we?" he asked, so low that she guessed his invitation more than she actually heard it. Soon they were waltzing giddily amidst a rather sparse crowd of hotel guests, again attracting stares. The women were whispering comments behind their fans to anyone who would listen, or reprimanding their male companions for admiring a little too openly the very beautiful woman in silver satin and black lace, and above anything else were seething with envy, for her gorgeous-looking, long-haired, tan-skinned partner seemed to have eyes for her only. Everyone present could see the so obvious adoration that flowed between the dancing couple, all smiles and oblivious to anything around them.

When the quartet concluded _Roses from the South_, Michaela and Sully applauded the nice performance along with the other dancers then returned to their table where they were presented with the rest of the menu. It was a bit too fancy for Sully's tastes, not that he cared that much. It was like wearing the suit. All that mattered to him was to see his wife enjoying herself on their honeymoon. Eating food he wasn't used to and wearing uncomfortable clothes once in a while was a small price to pay to please her. He'd even go back to the opera without a second thought…

After dinner, they danced again. Another waltz was being played, a slow one. It started out innocently enough, but before they knew it, their thoughts were simultaneously directed to another very special dance they had shared the night before, the memory brought back by the gentle, steady swaying of their bodies to a slow "one-two-three" rhythm. A wave of heat instantly flared between them, and they knew the time had come for them to retreat into their private heaven. They left the ballroom as discreetly as they could, but a sudden, strong urgency was driving them on. As soon as their door was securely closed, they leant against it to share a long, hungry kiss, at last able to give free rein to the passion that had been simmering between them all day. It wasn't long before it ignited them to further fulfilment, yet Sully found it in himself to stop before he lost all control. Though their lovemaking this very morning had not been exactly unpleasant, his inability to hold out then still rankled. Tonight, and every time they would be together, he wanted their loving to be as gratifying as it had been the night before, if not better. They still had a lot to learn about each other, and two weeks was indeed a short time span for such teachings – time he felt they couldn't afford to waste on careless, instinct-driven encounters. So he pulled away.

A bit disoriented at first, Michaela looked up into his eyes. He understood her puzzlement.

"Ever so easy, remember?" he breathed. She answered with a smile and a nod, though she wondered, given how aroused the two of them already were, how would they ever manage to take things slowly. Then an idea came to her on how to give them time to calm down a little. A few remaining insecurities caused her mind to instantly conjure up a dozen of things going wrong with her plan, but she determinedly shove them aside.

"Could you help me with the back of my dress, please? Then I'll be back in a few minutes."

Sully's face lit up, and he flashed a mischievous grin at her.

"What are you up to?"

Just as mischievously, she answered: "You'll see."


	9. Some Surprise

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

_**Author's comment: **Happy New Year! My best wishes for 2013. Thanks to your faithful support and encouragements, I managed to finish this chapter much sooner than I had anticipated. I hope it will meet your expectations! Cheers!  
And please visit my website! (you can find the link on my profile) I've posted my stories there as well, with a few pictures I drew myself, and also music for added atmosphere!  
_

**IX – Some Surprise  
**

Once the hooks of her dress were undone and the laces of the corset loosened enough, she turned around once more to face him, her face set in what she hoped to be a stern expression, though she knew that the grin that was irresistibly tugging the corner of her lips upward and the twinkle she was sure shone in her eyes were very possibly giving her away.

"Now I want you to close your eyes… And don't you peek!" she told him, assuming her bossiest tone.

Seeing right through her act, Sully let out a small snort of laughter, as amused as he was intrigued… and even more excited. But he complied without protest, and went to sit on the settee to wait, his ears tuned to catch any sound she could be making that would indicate what she was doing. She had forbidden him to look, but not to listen! He heard the soft rustling of the hem of her dress and voluminous petticoats on the thick carpet, the door of the wardrobe being opened, her rummaging into it and extracting something… his ears perked up at the very soft sound, trying to identify what it could be, but before his mind could figure it out, Michaela had disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

As soon as she closed the bathroom door behind her, Michaela hurriedly wiggled out of her dress and underclothes and slipped into the pretty nightgown she had worn on the first night of their honeymoon and which hadn't got much use ever since, she realised now. She removed her earrings, then took down the many pins that held her elaborate hairstyle in place, and brushed her long locks until there were no trace of the ringlets left. She quickly freshened up her face and when she was satisfied with her reflection in the mirror, she reached for the garment she had pulled out of the wardrobe minutes before, holding it up gingerly before her as if trying to figure out how someone like her could ever get away with wearing something like this. The negligee looked even more daring– and intimidating – now than when she had first beheld it at her bridal shower. She still couldn't believe her mother would buy her something like that, from Paris, no less! Even more cautiously, she put it on, then tied the bows at the front. She looked at herself in the mirror again and frowned: the result wasn't quite what she had expected, with the nightgown underneath showing through and making the gossamer thin satin crease and stretch ungracefully… _No, I can't wear this with nothing under!_ In the main room, Sully was waiting for her, which meant that she had to make a decision fast before he got impatient. She could simply forget about that fancy peignoir and just… _Well, what about the surprise he's expecting – the surprise you promised? _What could she do? What should she do? Again she stared at her reflection, the answer so obvious…

A minute or so later, she tentatively stepped back into the main room. Sully had cast off his jacket, waistcoat and tie and was barefoot. He had built up the fire to fend off the chill of the night, and the atmosphere was pleasantly warm. She froze self-consciously at the threshold, torn between her genuine desire to surprise and please her husband as a rightful reward for his care, his patience and how wonderfully cherished and needed he was making her feel, and how still foreign it felt to muster any kind of boldness when it came to _this_. A healthy dose of audaciousness was what had enabled her to stand her ground against all the scorn and dismissiveness in a male-dominated profession – and world, for that matter. Along with her stubbornness and strong will, those personality traits that her father had sustained and encouraged, had been the shortcomings which had made her stand out from the crowd of eligible young women all her life and feel left out, like something was terribly wrong with her, like she wasn't a _real_ woman. That is, until she met Sully. He might have been annoyed with her more times than she could count, but he had always come back to her no matter what, and he had never tried to make her into something or someone she wasn't. The mere fact that he had never made the slightest attempt to change her, even granting her the right to keep her maiden name though it had hurt him, was ample proof that these rather unfeminine traits of hers weren't repellent to him. If anything, Sully had somehow managed to present her with that part of herself that had seemed to be missing, or at least had been buried deep down – the very core of her femininity – brought forth by the single force of his love for her. She would have never thought that one day she would feel so complete and so confident about being a woman. Sully had done that in such an empowering way, like she could do anything, everything, things she would have never imagined she could do, as long as he was by her side… including overcoming her awkwardness regarding sexual matters. She could do this – she would do this. _For him_. Slowly, stealthily, she approached him.

Sully had done his best to occupy his mind and thought while he was waiting, though, as hard as he had tried, he hadn't been able to keep from speculating about what his wife was up to. It was so intriguing: he would have never expected her to take any kind of initiative so soon. Maybe he was putting too much into the way she had teased him. Maybe she hadn't actually meant to tease him at all. For all he knew, she simply might have gone to the bathroom to change into her nightgown… Never mind, he had booked Walt Whitman for tonight…

So absorbed he was in his musings that he didn't registered the sound of the door opening behind him. What stirred him from his daydreaming was the sudden awareness that she was back in the room, watching him intently. He could actually _feel_ her stare at the back of his head, like a tiny, white-hot point. The electricity in the room heightened to such a level that it seemed to be sparking off the walls, and making the fire in the hearth crackle louder and burn brighter. _Now, that's what I call sparkin'_, he thought fleetingly, smiling to himself, before rising to his feet as he sensed her coming closer. The sight that greeted him abruptly knocked all the breath out of him, and he had to steady himself by holding onto the back of the sofa. She stood in front of him, an ethereal, iridescent vision bathed in firelight. The opulent garment she was wearing hugged her body in such a close fit that it seemed to have been sewn right onto her skin. The rich ruffles of satin and billows of lace along the plunging neckline accentuated the fullness of her breasts, while the rosy, opalescent fabric graced the curve of her slender waist and the rounded slopes of her hips. As she took another step toward him, the lower edges of the peignoir parted slightly, and he gulped painfully when the gap showed briefly a bit of her legs.

As Michaela picked up on her husband's reaction, she worried for a moment that his stunned silence meant that he didn't like how she looked, and that the whole idea was nothing but a huge mistake. When his eyes met hers, their mesmeric blue standing out in his shadowed face, she only saw a desire so raw, so untamed, that her dismay, instead of being quelled, only grew – only this time, she feared her attire was too provocative. She wanted to retreat back into the washroom, yet she found herself once again enraptured under his watchful, unwavering gaze. Even though they were still a good couple of yards apart, she could feel the wafts of heat radiating from his body penetrating through the material of the negligee, suffusing her own skin in an upsweeping and overpowering stroke that prompted a soft moan to escape her lips. _How could it be that intense already? And so quickly? Moreover without any direct contact?_

Her skin now afire with the need for his touch, she waited for him to make the next move. However, when he didn't, she detected an expectation in his stillness. _Well_… She had come to the bridge – she had to cross it, there was no turning back now. Trembling with a mixture of nerves and desire, she walked the short distance between them.

As soon as she was within his reach, he felt the sharp ache to crush her against his chest running up his arms. His heart pounded so hard, his breath was so shallow that dizziness buzzed in his ears and almost obliterated his wish to have her take the lead this time round. He suddenly pictured himself carrying her to the rug in front of the fire, and making love to her right there, right away, her delicate wrists fettered in an iron grip as he took his sweet revenge for the way she had provoked him. Fortunately, this unwitting fantasy dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, his love and respect for her so much stronger than the most powerful lust. Instead, his hand slowly rose to her shoulder, his fingers brushing her arm ever so softly through the lace of the sleeve.

That light caress was all it took for her knees to buckle. He caught her before she fell, and effortlessly swept her off her feet. How she loved feeling so light in his arms, how it made her feel like she was floating on a cloud! His warm, quiet strength, so comforting and reassuring… she wanted to absorb it somehow, so she nestled as close as she could into him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her lips inexorably drawn to the spot where his blood was pulsating impatiently. His scent, so masculine and intoxicating, filled her nostrils, further fuelling her hunger for him. She wanted, needed him to take her to the bed, to slip beneath the covers with her, to have him touch, caress and kiss her, and to be able to do the same to him. The tell-tale pounding longing within her womb was already making itself known, relentlessly begging for fulfilment. She needed him to fill her up with his warmth, with his strength, she needed him inside her. _Now! _

He did carry her to the bed, and gently put her down on her feet again. Then he stood still again, the evidence of what he wanted her to do to him so openly expressed in his darkened eyes and set jaw. Feeling that she might need just a little push in the right direction, he leant forward, brushing his lips close to her ear.

"Trust yourself," he whispered in an echo of the moment he had asked her to trust him. She knew that he implicitly meant "Trust yourself the way I trust you." He trusted her ability to figure out how to love and pleasure him all on her own. He trusted her to find out what would feel just right to herself and to the two of them. In his unique way, he was validating her decision to wear the peignoir tonight. Such a freedom seemed quite daunting at that moment yet, by handing her that kind of power, he was offering her an opportunity to get back some control in the process – she might as well put it to good use.

Her grip onto his shirt collar tightened and she pulled him to her for a kiss that instantly grew deep and passionate and reinstated the urgency that had driven them to curtail their outing. So absorbed was she in the all-consuming kiss that her heart and her instinct had no trouble overruling her mind, and without thinking, she unbuttoned and discarded his shirt, her fingers now back to their customary deftness and efficiency, only pausing for a split second before she decisively unbuckled his belt.

Sully would later wonder how he ever managed to keep enough wit about him to hold out for so long, but when he sensed how fast things were escalating, he deliberately pulled back a little and forced himself to slow down the movements of his lips and tongue against hers. She took the hint, however his relief was short-lived, for her caresses on his upper body became torturously light as she explored her way up, down and around his broad, warm chest, occasionally slipping teasing fingers under the loosened waistband of his trousers. Likewise, what her kiss lost in temerity, it gained in voluptuousness, so much that he actually shied away from reaching under her fabulous dressing gown to touch her skin. Never had his desire for her reached such an excruciating point. He would not, _could not_ take this any longer.

"Michaela, please," he implored against her lips as they continued their passionate assault.

Stirred beyond measure by the plea in his voice, she barely managed to utter: "Tell me…," meaning _what to do_ but she found herself unable to finish her sentence, as she was too far gone already. But it didn't matter, for Sully answered her anyway, seizing her hands to bring them to the fastenings of his tuxedo trousers. With an assertiveness that surprised and aroused them both, she undid the buttons, untied the drawstrings of the cotton breeches underneath, and tugged both garments down to pool at his feet. The sight of his magnificent body, gleaming like a finely wrought bronze statue as the flickering light from the fire danced on his tanned skin, and his scent, so peculiar and overwhelming when he was aroused, made her so dizzy that she half-sat, half-dropped at the edge of the mattress.

"Touch me."

It came out very softly – neither peremptory, nor begging. She raised her eyes to his face. Had she heard him right? His large hand came up to cup her cheek, before burying itself in her hair, his fingertips gently raking the scalp behind her ear.

Her heart skipped a beat, and suddenly she felt shy and awkward again, as an unexpected uneasiness rose within her, constricting her throat. She had treated enough of assaulted women and prostitutes to be well aware that some men derived pleasure from forcing their member into their victims' mouth. And now, she found herself facing her husband's erect manhood, as he stood there, waiting for her next move. Was he expecting her to do this kind of thing? No, Sully would never force her to do anything that would make her uncomfortable. His loving, encouraging hand in her hair wasn't applying any unwelcome pressure on her nape, or anything of the sort. _Do what feels right for you… _What felt right, indeed? Still a little nervous from the disturbing thought that had crossed her mind, she raised trembling hands to his waist, closing her eyes briefly to collect herself before resuming her caresses upon his body. _Touch me_, he had said. He hadn't asked for anything specific, just for her to touch him. And she was the one who had asked for directions. _Touch him_. That was all.

The mere feel of the heated skin of his lower body under her fingertips sent rather fierce tingles all through her body, instantly rekindling her high state of arousal. She encircled his loins with her arms to pull him closer, and drew in a shaky breath as the tip of his manhood brushed against her midriff, just a hairsbreadth from her breasts. Still she forged ahead, relying on her hands to survey and map out every swell, dip and sinew of his body, committing them to her memory. Finally, she reached the one part of him she could no longer ignore. If her medical persona had always viewed it as an instrument whose functions were simply to urinate or procreate, now, as a still new bride, she was awestruck to think of it as something related to – _responsible for_ – the incredible pleasure she felt when they were one body. Timidly, she ran an experimenting finger down it, the skin there warm and surprisingly soft and delicate, like a flower petal. She jumped slightly as it answered to her touch with a tiny jerk, but pursued her endeavour, her touch cautious and reverent, encouraged by Sully's soft growls of pleasure.

Sully knew he had hit the point of no return. No matter what she would do or not do from that moment on, he knew he would have to reach the natural outcome of this encounter, one way or the other. The hand that had been gently, sensuously running through her silken hair dropped to his side, as tightly clenched as its twin, as he fought desperately the imperious urge to seek relief, with the desired destination unbearably close, a mere few inches below.

As she noticed the sudden hardening of his entire body, she feared she had done something unpleasant or worse, hurt him. She glanced upward, seeking his eyes once again. In them, she saw, without any doubt, what her caresses, tentative and inexperienced as they were, had done to him. It was so thrilling. Amazing. Could she really have such power over him, just like that?

Tenderly, she took his hand, unknotting the fist so she could intertwine her fingers with his, and tugged him along with her as she scooted backward on the bed, until they were reclining on their side, face to face. And again, she initiated a passion-filled kiss, never hungrier for his lips than right at this moment. She clasped him fiercely to her, her body straining to meet his, oblivious of the flimsy barrier of satin that still remained between them.

"Sully," she let out in a guttural whisper that didn't quite sound like her usual voice.

"Yes… Tell me… Tell me, 'Chaela," he besought her.

"Touch me," she whimpered.

And he did. All too aware that if he were to join them together right away he would lose it just as soon, he summoned the last shreds of self-control he had left to ensure that she was coming with him for the trip to their little private heaven. So, as slowly as he could, he untied one by one the bows that held the negligee modestly closed, edging his fingers further inside as each bow came undone, until he could finally pull the ruffled fronts apart to unveil her body. _Enough teasin', now_, he thought as he nudged her onto her back and proceeded to bring her to the ultimate delights with efficient, purposeful caresses of his fingers onto her exposed flesh. He smiled proudly to himself as he discovered on his way interesting spots and combinations that made her writhe and tremble and moan louder.

Michaela nearly fainted with the onrush of sensations he was provoking. His attentiveness, the eager yet patient way with which he was seeking out and stimulating her most sensitive places, his eyes never leaving hers as he observed in them her response to his ministrations left her completely awed and heightened her pleasure even more, pushing it up to a degree that drove her positively mindless. Without warning, everything around her dissolved in that unearthly blinding, rippling light that came from deep within, expanding to every cell in her body until she was fleetingly brought back to reality by the feel of him entering her, his movements in synchronisation with the pulsating feeling that kept rushing through her body. She did not even realise how loudly she was voicing her enjoyment, as wave after wave of overpowering gratification engulfed her. She was only conscious of the feel of his flesh on hers, within hers, becoming hers, and vibrating with hers.

As he had predicted, he found his release quickly, yet again, it struck him so forcefully that he almost felt his heart stop altogether, while a blinding bolt of light set his mind ablaze before invading his entire body like a prairie fire on a dry, hot, windy day. Never in his entire life had he gone through such a powerful experience, never had he reached this high level of alternate consciousness,not even during his encounters with the Spirits when he had embarked on vision quests while he was living with the Cheyenne. He gazed down at the woman who brought him so much more than love and physical pleasure, now more certain than ever that she was his Heartsong. Her eyes slowly regained their focus and a slow, tired, but appreciative smiled stretched her lips. When he gently withdrew and rolled to his side next to her, worried that his weight might be too much for her, she followed his movement and landed on her side as well. For the longest time, they lay there, silent, neither one able to take their eyes off the other's, both content to consciously bask in the afterglow of the extraordinary experience they had just shared.

Finally, Sully broke the comfortable silence as his curiosity emerged from the satisfied torpor that was suffusing his whole being.

"You look stunnin' in this. I can't tell ya how much I appreciate you wearin' it tonight."

"Well, _I_ could," she replied with uncharacteristic impishness. Not that he complained, for it clearly meant that she was leaving behind her Bostonian self and allowing a more light-hearted, not so perpetually serious Michaela to come forward, which with her wit and charm certainly made a potentially redoubtable combination, but at least he was the happy addressee.

"Where did you get it? They have things like this in them catalogues at Loren's?"

Michaela smothered a giggle behind her hand like a schoolgirl. Sully found her terribly cute.

"No…"

"Don't tell me… Present from your sisters?"

She shook her head again, eyes alight with amusement at the little charade.

"Ya bought it in Boston?"

Sensing that he would never guess, she blurted it out between two chuckles.

"It _is_ a wedding present… from Mother."

Utterly astounded by this bit of news as Elizabeth was definitely the last person he had expected to present her daughter with enticing lingerie, given her own opinions regarding the dreaded wifely duty, Sully couldn't find his voice for at least a good couple of minutes. Then he burst into laughter.

"It's hard to imagine… Either your ma had no idea how fantastic ya'd look in this, or she'd had ulterior motives when she gave it to ya…"

At this, she frowned, a bit affronted for her mother.

"What do you mean by 'ulterior motives'?"

Sully only laughed harder.

"Maybe – maybe she thought I'd make such a fool o'myself that ya'd come to your senses and realise how wrong I am for ya…"

"Not a chance," she asserted.

He gave her an appreciative smile, and reached out to run a loving thumb across her cheek. But he wasn't done yet.

"Or maybe she hoped you'd give me a heart attack…"

Realising that he was teasing her, she countered him playfully.

"I seriously doubt it. My mother wouldn't risk your health, knowing you'd have your own personal physician so close at hand. She's more cunning than that."

"Cunnin', huh? Think she has somethin' else up her sleeve to try and tear us apart?"

Turning earnest again, she slithered closer until they were touching from shoulder to toe.

"If she did, that wouldn't make any difference to me. As long as you love me as much as I love you, no one, nothing will ever separate us."

"God knows how I love ya."

"As I do."

They sealed their devoted declarations with such a long, ardent kiss that, when they pulled back, each saw in the other's eyes the need for an even deeper affirmation of their love. There was no need for words, no need to ask for permission or directions. They just made love slowly, long and deep into the night, until, finally exhausted, they wrapped themselves in the bedcovers, falling asleep so close to each other than one could have thought that they were still physically linked even in slumber.


	10. My Family, My Best Friend

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**X –My Family, My Best Friend**

_Monday May, 23rd, 1870_

She couldn't really pinpoint what had roused her, but when Michaela finally came out of the deepest sleep she had ever known, like she had sunk into the deepest, darkest ocean, put under by sated exhaustion, her consciousness was overwhelmed with a wealth of sensations: the taut, silken smoothness of the skin of his back under her fingers, the gentle graze of his chest hair on her breasts, the heated, musky scent of him… On any other man, the smell of sweat could get easily unpleasant when it wasn't sickening altogether, but on Sully? To her, it spoke of health and vigor – and of his proposal in the sweat lodge… Everything that was _him_ surrounded her, cradled her, as if he had been the very essence of her dreams.

A tiny grin appeared on her face as she realized the lateness of the hour. Being a doctor, and a mother to Brian who had so often sought comfort and reassurance for months after Charlotte's devastating passing, Michaela had long become accustomed to light, oft-interrupted sleep. She had never been one to oversleep. Yet, for the third day in a row, she had woken up to the warmth of a late morning sun… and to the warmth of _him_. She was presently nestled up to his chest and their legs were still entangled from their late night loving. She felt herself warming further with the hazy, dream-like memory, and a delicious shiver ran down her spine as his hand started to move sensuously at the small of her back. His lingering kiss upon her shoulder confirmed that he was wakening as well, and that he knew she was awake, too.

"Mornin'"

She lifted her flushed face from where it had rested all night in the niche of his neck to peer up at him. From behind the lacy screen of her long lashes shone that unmistakably seductive glint that could make his heart race like nothing else. Save maybe, the so arousing hoarseness of her voice…

"Good morning."

"Sun's been up for a while," he stated the obvious in a tone that clearly indicated how pleased he was with the reason behind their late awakening.

"So it seems," she breathed between two yawns. She arched against him as she stretched her limbs and smiled a bit embarrassedly when she perceived the effect her movements had on Sully. She started to back away, but he wouldn't let her go, clasping her to him all the tighter.

"Hey, just where d'you think you're goin'?"

She opened her mouth to protest only to find herself immersed in a deep, exploratory kiss. Any argument about getting dressed and fed vanished from her mind as soon as his hand crept down her thigh to cup the back of her knee, where he unabashedly teased the sensitive hollow he had found the previous evening, until she could no longer hold back her gasps of delight. She eventually pulled back a little and panted:

"Is this your way of getting my attention?"

Sully chuckled. He answered by confidently hooking her leg over his hip, thus bringing the most intimate areas of their bodies closer. His hand then traced a tantalizing path up the back of her thigh, succeeding in making the skin there bristle, down and back up again, his moves inexorably drawn inward. When he reached his goal, she let out a long shuddering sigh.

"Nope… _This_ is how I get your attention," he growled playfully. In retaliation for teasing her so, she nipped at his bottom lip, and flashed him a fiery look he mistook as one of displeasure. He momentarily feared he had crossed the line and instantly regretted his forwardness, half-expecting her to pull away. But she didn't. Once again surprising him – and herself for that matter – she pressed herself closer, so much closer, her skin rubbing against his… She bit her lip and her cheeks turned to a heated pink at her own brazen behavior. What was it in the way they could make each other forget about just everything in the world so fast, with only a kiss, a touch or a few words? How could they have gone from simply greeting each other upon waking up, to that firing up of all their senses in a matter of a few seconds? She briefly recalled Dorothy telling her that women usually needed more time than men did to be ready for intercourse, which was one of the reasons it sometimes didn't feel all that agreeable to some ladies – for their husbands weren't so willing to wait and ready or not, had their way. The fleeting memory left her wondering all the more about her own reaction. Was it normal that she could feel herself melting so easily? Yes, she indeed _melted_ with the mere nearness of him. She couldn't think of any other word to describe that warm liquefying feeling deep inside, its flow swelling and swirling until it would flood her completely and seek release.

"Hey…" He brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip to ease it from her teeth and kissed ever so lightly the bitten spot. He could tell from the way she was moving and breathing against him that she needed him as badly as he needed her. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel some remorse for his actions. No matter how readily she was responding to his advances, she was still very much an innocent in the matter of marital relations, and here he was, letting his most lustful instincts take over, like the desire he had held back for three years had broken loose from its dams on their wedding night and swamped his better judgment – like he had forgotten that showing affection could also be achieved simply with a soft kiss, a gentle hug, even loving words…

As if to belie his thoughts on her ingenuousness, Michaela's hand slithered down his abdomen and reciprocated his earlier quite direct overtures, though her caresses remained more timid than his. It was nonetheless more than enough to persuade him to bring their coupling to its inevitable conclusion, so, without further ado, he reached down to join them together…

_Knock! Knock!_

The loud knocking echoed in the room.

They both stilled, and Sully had to gulp several times before he called out "What is it?" in a harsher tone than he truly intended.

"Delivery for Mrs. Sully, Sir," a faltering juvenile voice answered. Disgruntled, all Sully could do was to give his wife an apologetic kiss before he rose gingerly, strategically wrapping one of the bedcovers around his hips to mask the evidence of his arousal, then drew together the drapes of the canopy bed to shield a very flustered Michaela from the intruder's view. He answered the door, opening it only a few inches at first. It was the same young man who had given him the quilt on which they had sat in the park. The bellhop was red-faced, as if he had guessed that he had interrupted a romantic interlude between the occupants of the honeymoon suite despite the lateness of the hour. Sully's curt nod and baleful expression certainly didn't contribute to ease the young employee's discomfiture.

"I'm… s-s-sorry… huh, Mister –"

"Yeah," Sully tersely acknowledged the bellhop's excuse and tore the carpet bag away from his gloved, shaking hand before shutting the door to the young man's face.

"Dunno why they couldna kept it till we got downstairs," Sully mumbled as he dropped the bag at the foot of the wardrobe before returning to the bed. Michaela's disheveled head poked through a gap between the drapes.

"They obviously didn't expect us to stay in so late on a Monday. Perhaps it was getting in their way," she ventured with a hesitant smile. "But at least, now, we will be able to get out of town like you wan–"

"First things first," he cut in. He let the cover around his waist fall to the floor, so she could see that his ardor hadn't been doused in the least by the untimely disruption, and joined her back in bed. Eyes, arms and legs locked together. They would get dressed… later.

* * *

In the carpet bag, Colleen had managed to squeeze in one of her mother's hats, a neckerchief and a pair of gloves between the leather riding skirt, a waistcoat and a couple of blouses. As Michaela took them out, a slip of paper fluttered out of the folds. It read:

_Dear Ma and Sully,_

_We hope you're enjoying yourselves in Denver. Here, everything's fine. The bed, chairs and wedding clothes came back safely and Grandma had them put away in the new barn for the time being. During the picnic today, everybody was still talking about how grand and beautiful and romantic your wedding was…_

This gave her pause. Oh yes, indeed, the wedding had exceeded all of her expectations!… All her youth, her choice of career had earned her countless gibes about scaring off suitors and never being taken seriously as a doctor, so she would grow into a lonely, pitiful spinster no decent man would ever want to care for. Her stubbornness had prevented her from giving in to social pressure, but in the deepest recess of her heart, she had longed for love as much as for acceptance. Just like any other girl, she had yearned for her knight in shining armor – she had wished she would meet a man that could sweep her off her feet and carry her off into the sunset. As she had grown into adulthood, it had seemed nothing more than a rather childish fantasy. Even though back East, weddings in high society could indeed be termed as _grand_, they were mostly staged as to impress neighbors and acquaintances. She had sat in the back pews often enough to have witnessed many a union that were more about making good matches – like it was some juicy business deal – than enacting what she thought to be the true meaning of a marriage… How incredibly lucky she was! Not only had hers been a wedding out of a fairy tale, but she had wed a man she loved with more strength, depth and passion than she had ever thought humanly possible, while he had proven again and again that he felt the same about her. And the icing on the cake, so to speak, had been the outpouring of affection from all their friends, all the genuinely happy faces that had surrounded them on this unique day.

Hearing him whistling merrily in the bathroom, where he was shaving, brought her back from her musings. She read the rest of Colleen's note, and smiled fondly at the three signatures at the bottom, Matthew's, Colleen's and Brian's, surrounded by a string of hearts, _We love you_ and _We miss you_. She felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn't missed her children as much as she had thought she would. She _did_ think about them, and she knew they were being well cared for, so she had no reason to worry, yet it wasn't as if she was busy taking care of patients during an epidemic, or away to collect samples of polluted water; neither was she looking for someone who was missing… For the first time since she had come to Colorado – come to think of it, for the first time in her life – she was away from her family for a strictly personal reason. _Speaking of family_… she headed for the bathroom, her arms loaded with her riding clothes, and paused in the doorway to observe her husband. He had stopped whistling to do his upper lip, and the only sounds were the light scrape of the blade on his skin and the occasional tapping of the razor on the china bowl. He only had his buckskins on, hanging low on his hips. In the reflection of the large mirror, she could get a glimpse of the suggestive shadow below his navel. And she blushed at the thought that he wore nothing else but the soft leather. She couldn't figure out why this particular detail was stirring her so much, now, when it must have been so ever since she had known him, and before. Was it because she had never dared to consciously acknowledge it before they got married? Because it would have been far too inappropriate to even wonder about it?

Sully caught her reflection in her mirror, the direction of her gaze and the subsequent blush, and if not for needing to be so careful with the razor, he would have broken into a cheeky grin, like the cat that ate the canary. _Sweet Michaela!_ Bold enough to peek, and still ingenuous enough to blush at her own boldness!

Her eyes went back to his face as he patted his cheeks and neck with cologne, its delicate aroma floating out to her. That was another flagrant difference she so loved about him: the discreet, herbal scent of his skin after he had shaved, nothing like the pungent-smelling mixture that most men were used to pouring – a bit too liberally sometimes – onto themselves. The pink on her cheeks turned a few shades darker as she fought the impulse to thrust herself into his arms, bury her face in its now customary place below his chin and get a good whiff of that intoxicating scent…

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

She shuddered. _Hmm, his voice_… The burning redness spread up to her forehead and down her neck when she realized she was getting aroused again, and quite powerfully so. _For goodness' sake, pull yourself together! You're barely out of bed and you're still lusting after him? What's wrong with you? _She struggled a few seconds to regain her composure before she could answer:

"Huh – hum… The children left a note in the bag, they send their love."

"That's nice of 'em, but I don't reckon that's what you were _really_ thinkin' about just now..."

It was almost annoying how he could read her like an open book. What could she tell him that he hadn't already guessed? Still, she skated around voicing her longings outright, and revealed instead:

"I was thinking about our family, how it has come together… how unorthodox it is, and yet I can't ask for a more wonderful one… You've always been part of it, somehow, even before we confessed our love – even before our first kiss!"

Sully knew she was avoiding the issue, but was moved all the same by what she was saying. He turned around and went to her, wrapping his arms around her lovingly.

"Yeah… I never told you how much it meant to me, when you had to operate on Brian, and you didn't want me there because you considered me a part of your family. I never told you either that you an' the kids, the way you've included me in everythin'… It's what pulled me through when I got beat up, much more than the massages, or going to the hot springs. The love you all gave me is what stopped me from killin' Rankin. No revenge can be worth losin' what I've found with you."

She stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips, and murmured, between kisses:

"I love you, my family."

"And I love you… my best friend."

He wouldn't let the kisses escalate this time round though – he knew how easily they could get swept away – so when he pulled back, he smiled down at her in a way that clearly meant, as if he was stating it out loud, _all in due time_. She understood he had perceived her reawakened desire, and that he wouldn't have minded to attend to it. But they both also needed time out of this room, time to simply enjoy each other's company and to discuss private matters, share secrets… And she had to agree with that.

* * *

The sun had reached its zenith by the time they got out of the hotel and headed for a nearby livery to rent a couple of horses. It didn't take them long to reach the foot of a mountain flank that appeared not too steep, with a wide ridge that overhung the valley, high enough to have a nice view from up there, and yet easy enough to reach so the hike wouldn't take all afternoon.

They had to leave the horses tethered to a tree when the trail became a little too steep and narrow, so they continued on foot, taking their time observing the various plants and animals along their way. It wasn't much different from what they found at home, but to both of them, it felt brand new. Every time they would look at each other, they would be acutely aware that their new outlook on life could only mean one thing…

Finally, they reached their destination. As they stood quietly on the ledge, admiring the breathtaking sight before them, Michaela found her focus irresistibly drawn to her husband. Here, away from the demands and restricting codes of city life, he was back in his natural element. It wasn't so much the way he was dressed, or even his survival skills, it was more evident in his attitude. His apparent relaxed stillness could fool anyone but her. She knew all his senses remained finely tuned to everything around them: which way the wind was coming from, the various smells and sounds of the wilderness – the tiniest change could hint at possible danger… and so aware was he of his surroundings that he knew she was observing him. His lips curled into an amused smile.

"Enjoyin' the view?

Michaela startled, then giggled, not ashamed in the least at being caught.

"Mmh, yes, very much," she replied, her eyebrows quirking in appreciation. "I could stay here forever."

"You know what they say, that you can't live on love and fresh air alone…"

"That's too bad," she sighed. "Being with you like this makes me feel so complete – so… _alive_, that I can't imagine needing anything else."

"You sure know how to say the things I feel a lot better than me," he said, hugging her tightly and pressing a loving kiss to her brow.

"That's not true, Sully, I told you that already. You always know what to say, and when…"

"That's sweet of you to say, 'Chaela, but I can't pretend I can carry on a conversation 'bout things like the books you like to read, or philosophy and the likes, I bet, the way David or William could've with you."

Michaela pulled back to look straight into his eyes, feeling apprehensive:

"Sully… Is it how I make you feel sometimes? Like I wish you had more schooling or you were interested in everything I enjoyed growing up in a wealthy family?"

"Of course not. I know that ain't how you feel. I just wanna give you everythin'. I'd give you the world if I could…"

"Oh, Sully, don't you know that you _do_ give me everything I need – and more? If anything, I should be the one to worry about not fulfilling all your needs!"

"You gotta be jokin'," he interjected in disbelief. "I still gotta pinch myself every once in a while just to be sure I _am_ actually married to the most beautiful, wonderful and the smartest woman in the world…"

At the same time, they realized how pointless their respective insecurities were as they considered them through the prism of the other's point of view and they broke into laughter. Then they quieted again, a new-found peace flowing through them as their eyes held lovingly for a little while, before they turned their attention back to their beautiful surroundings. At their feet, cheerful meadows of high herbs and flowers in full bloom swayed under the breeze like multi-colored waves that came crashing against the clumps of firs lining the foot of the mountain. The same wind was also busy with playfully chasing a few lazy clouds around the peaks before sweeping down the rocky slopes to come whipping around their hair in its whimsical race. But save from the wind's cheeky whispers, the valley was only echoing with an awe-inspiring peacefulness. Though they weren't even halfway up to the top, still, the landscape and overall atmosphere, the sky so immensely bright above them as if its blue was as luminous as the sun itself, all left them with the same impression Sam Lindsey had described.

"… Like you're insignificant and special all at the same time," Michaela mouthed quietly and reverently.

"Huh?"

"You remember Sam, don't you?"

"Sure I do."

"The night she talked us into going fishing, she told me what it felt like to reach a mountain top… Exhilarating and peaceful – like you really belong to the earth. Like nothing else can make you feel more alive, except…"

"Except?"

She peered up at him again, her eyes suspiciously bright.

"Falling in love."

Simultaneously, they moved into each other's arms. Everything that needed to be said had been – for the moment, at least.


	11. No More Excuses

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**XI –No More Excuses**

**A/N:**_ I want to thank all my faithful readers and most of all, the ones kind enough to leave all those wonderful reviews that keep me going, especially when times are tough, or when Real Life gets so busy I fear I might lose the inspiration, and the momentum. A million of thank-yous to_ _my awesome betas Kruemi and Linda, their wonderful insight, their keen eye for spotting the various typos and inconsistencies.  
This story wouldn't be what it is without you two.  
While I'm at it, I also inform you that I'm one of the contributing authors to the Missing Enthusiasm Enthusiasts. You may find us on Facebook, or you can check my ME page directly on my renovated website (see the link on my profile) _

By the time Michaela and Sully decided to return to their hotel, the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, its last rays drawing streaks of fire upon the peaks. Enchanted by their outing, their senses filled with the lush beauty of Nature, the couple couldn't help but be amazed that their togetherness made each new experience – even something as simple as a walk – seem more profound and satisfying.

When they reached the hotel it was quite late – far too late for them to have time to clean up and change to go to the dining room, so Sully ordered a light supper to be brought up to their suite. Fortunately, they didn't have to wait too long for it, for they were quite hungry after hours of exercise in the open, fresh air, and they dined ravenously, barely pausing to tease each other about their appetite.

A little while later, Sully returned to the main room, refreshed and eager to snuggle up with his wife. He found her fast asleep, sitting up against the headboard and her hairbrush still in hand. At that instant, she appeared so vulnerable – she was indeed sleeping like a baby, the way little children did after an exciting but tiresome day, exhaustion getting the better of them in a matter of seconds. His heart swelled with so much tenderness that he wasn't disappointed in the least. Quite the contrary, for a few minutes, he took the opportunity to take in the lovely picture she made, her features softly limned by the lamp on the nightstand. He couldn't resist reaching out to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers.

Eventually he took the brush from her, blew out the lamp and, very gently, he slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her torso to lay her down, before he joined her under the covers. The movements had roused her just enough for her to seek the warmth of his arms. She mumbled something unintelligible, and sighed as she settled herself against his chest and tucked her head under his chin. He felt the light swelling of her cheek against his skin that indicated she was smiling, and that made him grin, too.

He resisted his fatigue as long as he could, as he wanted to enjoy this quiet time with her. He wondered whether he would ever tire of holding her at night. Probably never. He had lost too many loved ones in his life not to treasure any precious moment he could spend with the one person he loved more than anyone else, more than he had ever thought possible for a man to love a woman. And what a woman Michaela was! Hank may have meant it as a good-natured barb, but in a way, he had been right – well… almost right: _one helluva woman_. As infuriating as she could get at times with that stubbornness of hers, her feistiness actually was one of the things he loved the most – especially the way it had begun to manifest itself in an entirely new way now that they were married. The passion she put into everything she did had carried over into the most intimate part of their relationship: each time they made love, she became a little bolder and she had even started to come up with initiatives on her own to surprise him. She had been shrugging off her Bostonian ways like Salome had done with the proverbial seven veils – one by one, she was shedding them, revealing more and more of herself to him, not just physically, but emotionally as well. He had no doubt whatsoever that one day, possibly not too long down the road, they would partake in the games of love as evenly matched partners. He was confident that she would then unabashedly come to him for some _holdin'_ whenever she would feel like it– and he would be happy to oblige!…

_Whoa! Easy, boy_, he told himself as he realized the direction of his thoughts. He didn't want to wake her up now, nor did he want to be struggling with unfulfilled desires all night long. It had been bad enough before their wedding, and he wasn't willing to go back to that time and resort to desperate measures to relieve the tension. So he yanked his thoughts from their rather stimulating subject and concentrated on simply listening to her peaceful breathing, the only sound in the otherwise very silent room. Then, as if hypnotized, he drifted off as well.

* * *

_Tuesday May, 24th, 1870 _

The next morning, a veiled sun fell onto Sully's sweaty, heaving back, as he was slowly recovering from his efforts. His wife's arms and legs were wrapped around him, holding him captive, and this was yet another pleasant discovery for him – that she actually liked to keep him inside like that. The feel of her body quivering under him – and _around him_ – was just as gratifying physically as it was emotionally, and was something he would treasure forever.

For once, Michaela had woken up first. Feeling that she had to make up for falling asleep on him the evening before, she had been the one to kiss him awake, with the softest brush of her lips on his. One blink, one smile and one whispered greeting later, their good-morning kiss had grown deep and breathless and passionate caresses had followed. Though Sully hadn't breathed a word of complaint about her untimely unavailability, the ardor he had just exhibited making love to her suggested that he might have been anxiously anticipating their union all night.

For Michaela, bred in a society where the conjugal duties had to be performed as discreetly as possible, preferably in complete darkness and silence, modestly covered by bedclothes, with as little skin contact as possible, her physical relationship with Sully was the absolute antithesis of what women from her background usually expected and experienced. Especially their morning interludes, when they could enjoy the sight of each other's body, bathed in bright daylight… And what about the voluptuous kisses and touches, his tanned flesh pressed against hers, the completeness such as she was feeling right now … She didn't want to let him go, she couldn't! He was hers and _hers_ alone!

Last, but not least, were the blissful sighs, the encouraging moans – the ecstatic cries… _goodness…_ Her Bostonian mentality wouldn't have this and sought revenge by bringing an umpteenth blush to her cheeks. It was still hard for her to believe that her husband actually liked when she voiced her pleasure. Yet, his smile and the gleam in his eyes in those moments couldn't be mistaken for anything else but triumph and satisfaction. Everything they had been experiencing together in the past few days was as exciting for her as it was bewildering. It truly served to reinforce her belief that their marriage was quite remarkable. Well, no wonder, she was loved by an exceptional man, and she loved him back so much that no word in the English language – nor in any other language that she knew of – could possibly encompass the wealth of feelings she had for him. Save, perhaps, the endearment engraved inside her wedding band. If she was his Heartsong, then he was hers even more!

She was in no hurry to get up, and even when Sully could no longer keep them together and slipped free, she still held him to her bosom as tight as her limbs, heavy with sated lethargy, would allow. She just needed to keep him close, real close – so close she could pretend they were still one.

They spent the major part of the morning in each other's arms, sharing a few soft kisses and whispered words of love, their eyes never leaving the other's, content with simply being in their dearest loved one's presence. Only the annoying necessities of life reminded them that they had to get out of bed eventually. So great was their regret to have to separate that the small, almost apologetic kiss he gave her instantly grew into a much deeper one that threatened to escalate into another encounter – the temptation to surrender to the call of desire drumming through their veins as if their hunger could never be satiated.

Sully tore himself from his wife's enticing lips and promised breathlessly: "Tonight…" with one last feathery kiss to her forehead. He then disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Michaela battling with her longing. Part of her wanted to follow him and get him to finish what they had started – the most elemental part of her being that was presently caterwauling like a lioness – while the Boston lady in her scowled and demanded that she controlled herself immediately. _Shame on you_, whispered her mother's voice, reminding her of the nightmare two nights ago. She shook herself. Well, of course she wouldn't act so wantonly, but neither would she consider her desire for her husband to be sinful anymore. It was _right _ – and wonderful. Nevertheless, she picked her nightgown up off the floor where it had been carelessly thrown, and slipped it back on in a futile attempt to appear modest while she waited for her turn in the bathroom. She laughed quietly at herself, but at least she felt better: she still wasn't entirely comfortable standing around without a stitch on – unless Sully was there to distract her, of course.

* * *

Sometime later, they were ambling along the streets, looking through the many store windows for presents to bring back to the children. They had no definite ideas about what to give them yet, but were confident that they would find the right gifts in the end.

Since she had come to Colorado, Michaela had learned how to live simply, and make the things she needed herself instead of simply buying them. Though her practice in Colorado Springs was now well established and granted an income sufficient to provide for all her family's needs, it still was rather meager compared to what most of her male colleagues could earn in their city practices, and a far cry from what her own father used to make. Gazing at the many expensive items on display reminded her that, though fancy store-bought presents could occasionally be a pleasant surprise, her most treasured possessions were the gifts Sully and the children had made themselves, or worked very hard for. It was the care, the thoughtfulness, and the love behind them that made them truly precious and meaningful. She didn't want to pick up the first things that would attract her eyes, the way her mother and sisters tended to do whenever they went shopping.

One of the store fronts showed a wide variety of stuffed toys, bears, puppies and others animals of various shapes and sizes, with a few dolls and sets of building blocks in their midst. She stopped in her tracks, instantly drawn to the colorful window. A small, inaudible sigh escaped her.

Seeing what had caught her eye, Sully guessed easily that she wasn't thinking of the Cooper kids right at the moment. He, too, wondered about the little one they both hoped to have. Had its life already started...? He knew that it might take a few weeks before they could tell for sure if Michaela was pregnant…

He was distracted from his thoughts by Michaela's tugging on his hand again and pointing at a particular item hanging from the ceiling a few feet behind the display. He chuckled when he saw her beaming smile – it was a smile he had been seeing quite often for the last few days. She seemed to be enjoying herself so much, and her excitement was so contagious that it made him feel younger than he ever remembered feeling – ever since… His mind clamped down as soon as the grievous memory of his mother's death threatened to sneak its way into his heart and choke him with its icy fingers. The only feeling he wanted to feel was the joy of spending time with his wonderful bride, of having her undivided attention for once. And the large kite in the store was beckoning to them, as if saying it was high time Michaela had learned how to fly one properly.

She did protest a little at him spending money when he could have made one himself, to which he answered: "No more excuses. You're gonna fly that kite, and that's the end of it."

She giggled at the playful assertiveness of his tone, and her attempt to sound serious and meek when she said, "Yes, sir!" failed miserably.

The day was windy, and a bevy of clouds raced each other across the sky. The clouds were heavy, hinting at a possible rainstorm later in the afternoon. Always attentive to the weather, Sully momentarily pondered their decision to go back to the meadow they had crossed the day before, which was quite far out of town, thinking perhaps they should wait for a sunnier day. Then again – there was no cloying wetness in the air, nor telltale earthy smell of the soils that would normally announce an impending storm. Weighing their options, he decided that the prospect of prompting Michaela to do something just for fun, without following a strict schedule where even periods of leisure had to start and end at a precise time, far outweighed the risks of getting caught in the rain._ There's no time like the present_, he mused with a grin.

They found a nice large clearing beyond a thick patch of woods where they could run and laugh without being disrupted by the many comings and goings in and out of town. And laugh and run they did – plenty. After many failed attempts, Michaela finally managed to keep the kite up in the air long enough to be able to have it executing a few simple figures.

"You're doin' good, stay with it!" Sully called out as he applauded her efforts. He was amazed how quickly she had gotten the hang of manipulating the strings – and yet, it wasn't that surprising: he had seen her perform enough miracles in her clinic, from executing perilous brain surgery on her own son, to fixing severe scarring on the train engineer's face. And she had managed those exploits at her first try! In the face of those accomplishments, flying a kite seemed easy enough. _Ain't she a wonder_, he mused. Once again he got lost in admiring her. _How did I get so lucky? _Her eyes and her smile were so bright and animated as she looked up at the wood and fabric frame soaring through the air, and her presence and voice gave out such warmth – the thought occurred to him that she might as well be his Sun, as she had lit up his entire soul from the moment they had met, and had warmed a heart he had thought condemned to the darkness and cold of loneliness forever.

When the kite veered a bit too abruptly and plummeted again to the ground, she began to walk toward him, intending on offering him to have a turn at flying it. But words died on her lips as she realized the way he was looking at her. It wasn't the first time she had caught that expression of utter adoration in his countenance, and, as it had done before, it didn't fail to make her heart pound erratically. But there was something else lurking in his eyes, a trace of something very hard to define, a sort of mournful longing. And then it was gone, and she wondered if she had really seen that flicker, or if it was simply something she had imagined. Nevertheless, she couldn't detach her gaze from his face as she walked straight into his waiting arms.

Sully was overcome with a strong sense of déjà-vu as she neared him with her hair blown about and that crooked smile he loved so much. Only she wasn't all in white, he wasn't in a sweat lodge, and she felt very _real_, comfortingly solid and warm, when his arms closed around her.

"Sully, are you all right?"

Her voice sounded loving to his ear, but he discerned concern as well. She had felt his mood shift. He could hardly pinpoint himself why he was experiencing those strange fits of nostalgia now, but as slight as they were, she had sensed his emotions. How could he tell her anything when he found it so difficult to articulate his feelings? Besides, she would fret, as she was so prone to do. He knew that this habit of hers stemmed from how much she cared for people, and of course, given how much she loved him and the children, she was bound to fuss all the more!

At her question, he hugged her a little tighter, and one of his hands slid up to her nape to caress it in that possessive way he sometimes used when they had to separate for an indefinite stretch of time, or when he was relieved to find her alive and well after fearing for her safety. Something was definitely amiss. She was about to ask, but he spoke at the same moment:

"How could I not be?" He pulled away enough to be able to gaze at her face. "Gotcha all to myself, my beautiful, wonderful Heartsong! Life don't get no better than this in my book." With those words he lifted her off the ground and spun her around, smiling broadly. And then, as he put her back down, he took her breath and concerns away with a passionate kiss, the hunger of which soon rekindled the desire she had so painstakingly banked a few hours before. _There's an appropriate place and time_… her own words rang in her mind, but were powerless in the face of what her body was urging her to do.

They were saved from getting irremediably swept away and risking being caught as the clouds above them suddenly broke into a shower. They parted and, laughing, started to run toward the shelter of the trees, picking up the fallen kite on their way. The foliage was thick enough to protect them from the downpour, but one peek at the sky told Sully they were in for a rainstorm that would probably last hours.

"Looks like it ain't gonna let up soon. What d'ya say we use the kite as cover and hurry back to the hotel…" He bent to blow into her ear, eliciting a light squeal from her, and then said just loud enough to be heard above the blatant drumming of the rain "… Get warm and pick up where we left off?"

She swallowed and ran her tongue over her dried lips in anticipation. She nodded once, her twinkling eyes and breathlessness eloquent enough to have him all the more eager to retreat into their room.

Hand in hand and holding the makeshift umbrella above their heads, they ran as fast as her legs would carry her, as she was hampered by her skirt and petticoats, which were soon drenched and caked with mud. But just as they reached the first row of buildings on the outskirts of town, Sully stopped dead in his tracks.

"Sully?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he took her into his arms again, crushing her to his chest, their leaking cover forgotten, and claimed her lips for a deep, sensuous kiss, effectively cutting off all protest she might emit. They stood there in the pouring rain, oblivious to their soaked and dripping hair and clothing. He only pulled back when he felt her shiver violently, both from pleasure and the contrast between the cold, waterlogged clothes and the heat radiating from her skin.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" she sputtered, once again failing to sound serious as the dazed expression on her face gave away how much she had enjoyed that unexpected – and consequently exciting – kiss.

"Been wantin' to kiss ya in the rain ever since our first Thanksgivin'!"

Before she could mouth another word of complaint, he tugged on her arm and soon they were continuing their race through the streets of Denver, which were transformed into sloppy channels. A mere few yards from the hotel entrance, a coach passed them by at full speed and before they knew what had hit them, they were covered in slime from head to toe. They blinked, stunned, then burst into laughter as they took in each other's comical appearance and both recalled Michaela's first run-in with the Colorado mud. _Had it been three years ago already?_

But their mirth was short-lived as they were confronted with the daunting task of going up to their suite without ruining the lush carpets of the lobby with their dripping, dirty clothes. Fortunately, the staff of the hotel was used to those kinds of occurrences and made short work of providing them with towels large enough for two and assured them that they didn't need to worry about anything. One of the bellhops even offered to bring them extra hot water for a bath.

Less than half an hour later, Sully locked the door of their suite and joined his wife in the bathroom. She was grimacing as she contemplated the state of her appearance in the large mirror above the washstand that faced the bathroom door.

"I don't think I've ever been this filthy," she said dispiritedly to his image leaning against the door frame behind her.

He smirked and stepped closer, reaching around to undo the first few buttons of her blouse. He nuzzled her temple, cheek and neck sensually, then murmured, his voice thick and his eyes focused intensely on their reflection in the mirror: "I don't mind. Like I told ya once, no matter what, I'll always love you and find you as beautiful as I did the first day I saw you." Then his mischievous smirk reappeared, thus breaking the potential solemnity of his declaration, as he added: "Of course, back then, ya were already covered in mud!" With that, he pressed a hard kiss to a clean spot at the base of her neck, hungrily suckling the skin there and prompting goose bumps to erupt all over her body, which had remained highly sensitized from the day's amorous play.

He unbuttoned the rest of her blouse and cast it off to the pile of saturated towels on the floor. She caught his gaze dropping to her revealed shoulder, and shuddered as he smacked his lips as if already relishing the taste of her flesh.

"I love your skin." His growled comment between kisses inflamed her senses further, and almost erased the uneasiness she was starting to feel at witnessing her own reaction to his words and touches in the mirror. She just closed her eyes so she would no longer see her hardened nipples so clearly outlined by the flimsy material of her camisole nor her face transfigured with longing.

Before that stolen moment when his attempt to wash her neck and back during the cattle drive had turned into an incredibly erotic experience, she would never have imagined having him kiss her shoulders and neck could be so arousing – for both of them. And now that they were married and no longer had the barrier of propriety to stop them from being intimate whenever they wanted, it seemed that all her sensations were magnified with each new encounter. She found herself wishing she could muster enough boldness to tell him directly how good his sensuous ministrations felt, or return his compliments. She too loved his body, his skin, his eyes, everything – how the mere sound of his voice when he greeted her in the morning, or simply his reassuring presence, could elicit such a powerful thrill of longing deep inside her. She _needed_ to tell him, and yet words just got stuck in her throat. And Sully was the one who had lamented about not always knowing what to say!

Still, she wanted to let him know how much she appreciated what he was doing, especially when one of his hands slipped under her camisole to fondle her breast, while the other was working on loosening the waistband of her skirt and petticoat. She reached over her shoulder and found his neck, which she stroked encouragingly. He let out another soft growl, and tugged at her wet clothes more frantically.

"Sully…"

Her voice – weak, almost defeated. He had come to recognize the various nuances of the way she spoke his name during their lovemaking. Short of her telling him precisely what she wanted, it was still one the surest clues as to how she was feeling. One glance at her face flushed with passion reflected in the mirror confirmed what he already knew: cleaning up would have to wait.

He turned her around so she faced him and shed his own soggy shirt and buckskins, their eyes locked and held as if mesmerized. The dirty water dripping from their hair was drawing dark rivulets on their skin. Michaela knew she shouldn't have felt aroused at the sight, but she did. She just couldn't fight the primeval instinct to be with Sully when it was so demanding. When he lifted her off her feet and swiveled around to press her against the wall, she only protested halfheartedly:

"Sully… the bath?"

"Later. I want you _now_," he growled, his own voiced strained with the urgency of his desire.

She whimpered at the bluntness of his words even as she wrapped her legs around his waist and welcomed him inside.

And then, as her body yielded to the all-consuming wildness of this embrace, all thoughts about propriety, cleanliness and discretion dissolved into nothingness.

_No more excuses_.


	12. In Joy and in Sorrow

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**XII – In Joy and In Sorrow**

After their brief but intense encounter in the bathroom, Sully swiftly acted to prevent Michaela from feeling any kind of embarrassment at submitting to such bold overtures from him, moreover at her own enthusiastic response and impassioned cries, which had echoed in the tiled bathroom, much to his delight. She had indeed blushed profusely afterward, but he had ever so tenderly washed the grime from her hair and skin, pausing once in a while to press a gentle kiss on her cheek or hand. Instinctively knowing she needed distraction, he asked what she wanted to do during the rest of their stay – would she like to see a play? Or a concert, maybe? There was a piano recital scheduled for the next Saturday night… His doting attentions and casual conversation soon made her realize that they had done nothing wrong at all, allowing her scruples to ease significantly.

When he eventually stepped into the tub after her, there was an impish, questioning glint in his eyes, and she knew intuitively what he meant. Determined, she returned his care, lovingly running the sponge across his back, shoulders and chest. Yet a trace of shyness returned and made her hand tremble when she cleaned his lower half, and her blush returned when she noticed his reaction. Obviously, his arousal was reawakened – and much to her surprise, so was hers, especially since neither of them had meant for this to happen again so soon.

They had not even finished drying off when they breathlessly staggered to their bed, lost in a hungry kiss, the collation brought by the bellhop earlier definitively forgotten, the tea forlornly lukewarm in its pot and the various slices of bread and cake already getting spongy.

They made love again, directly atop the downy satin coverlet which got a bit damp in the process, but neither had cared. Mindful of his wife's emotional and physical comfort zones, Sully set a slower pace this time and took full advantage of being able to hold out much longer to devote himself to her pleasure, succeeding in bringing her to completion several times in a row. And when he finally acceded to his own release, it was the most powerful onrush of energy that had ever coursed through his body, the most incredible sensation of being lifted to dizzying, disorienting heights. Yet, somehow throughout it, every bit of his consciousness remained intensely aware of _her_, focused on _her_ only and the knowledge that _she_ was in his arms right now. It was even better than the night she had worn the negligee and it definitely confirmed what their precedent unions had taught him: that it was in seeking what pleased _her_ the most that he got his deepest satisfaction, for all he gave her, she gave him back even more.

When he had told her on the train that they would both be learning how to be with one another, he had meant it of course, but never had he expected how much he would learn – about her, about himself, and about how being intimate with one's soul mate was indeed a profound, meaningful and sacred act of love. Moreover, he felt as if they were the only two people on earth able to share such moments of absolute communion and to experience that taste of eternity in their mutual abandon. His awe was reflected in her eyes as they both resuscitated with great shuddering breaths. Again he was at a loss for words – again, all he could do was to gaze raptly at her and keep on caressing her gentle feminine curves, kissing her over and over. Just as wordless as he, she returned his attentions until they could no longer fight the inexorable fatigue, and dozed off, entwined in one another's arms.

* * *

_Wednesday May, 25__th__, 1870_

The rain hadn't abated all evening and night and it seemed intent on pouring all day. Many Denver citizens were looking worriedly at the laden sky, wondering whether they were in for another disastrous flood. Some of them even started to prepare for the worst, stocking up food and putting their most valuable possessions in safer places. Bags of sand appeared on thresholds and large wooden planks were installed across the muddiest streets to allow the population to come and go more easily without wading into a sloppy mess up to their knees.

However, there was someone who, for once, couldn't have cared less about the heavy rain. Actually, he was secretly thankful for the excuse to stay in all day. Especially after everything that had happened since he had come back from a kite-flying excursion that had turned out to be more exciting than anybody had bargained for…

Sully presently gazed down at his wife, who was softly smiling in her sleep, and he had to resist the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her awake. She had finally drifted off only a couple of hours before, utterly exhausted from their rather broken night, as it had seemed that they couldn't get enough of each other…

Somewhere well past dinner time, he had awoken to a shivering Michaela snuggling closer to seek his body heat. No wonder, he had realized: they had remained lying atop the damp quilt, naked, and the fire had died down. He had spent enough nights outside not to mind a bit, but of course, Michaela hadn't, though she had showed him on several occasions that she could rough it… She had roused as well when he had disengaged himself from her arms to go rekindle the fire. Returning to the bed, he found she had slid beneath the covers, and obviously had been watching him at his task, judging by the unmistakable hunger gleaming in the golden hazel of her eyes. He simply couldn't remain impassive when her desire was being expressed so openly, blazing as hotly as a bonfire. So, twice again during the night they had surrendered to their irresistible attraction, mesmerizingly serenaded by the languid chorus of the pelting rain outside and the crackle of the fire in the hearth.

The sole memory of those hours was enough to make his heart race again now, even if he was determined to give her some well-deserved rest. He considered getting out of bed, maybe going downstairs to order a large meal to make up for the lack of proper nourishment lately… Had he been the one who had stated that they couldn't live on love only? Maybe he had been wrong… Truth was he was loath to leave her side – she would sense his absence and wake up…

He chuckled to himself. Who was he fooling? He couldn't possibly leave her, not now. Not when he could bask in such incredible happiness from just being near her. Carefully sliding down on his side, he again contemplated her beautiful features. The gray semi-darkness of the rainy morning couldn't even dull the nimbus of radiance that seemed to emanate from her. He knew that he was very possibly getting that impression because he loved her so much, but still, she had so often appeared to him like an angel – maybe she was truly one, sent from Heaven to love, protect and heal him. Again unable to resist the need to touch her, he reached out to caress her face. She flinched slightly at the contact and he half-expected her to turn away to continue her snooze, but instead she turned her head toward him, seeking the warmth of his hand, her smile more pronounced, and a throaty sigh – like a purr, really – escaped her. At that moment, she reminded him very much of a cat begging for human touch. An amused smile tugged the corners of this mouth upwards as he realized that, once freed of all the prim and proper Eastern rules, Michaela had indeed something very feline about her, from her mysterious, mesmerizing and so expressive eyes, to her soft, graceful and supple body. Her independent and inquisitive spirit combined with her affectionate nature certainly added to that perception. Could a cat and a lone wolf like him make it work? So far they had succeeded – far beyond everyone's expectations, including their own.

Though he knew he should probably rest as well, he was now wide awake with bright visions of their future together… he who had been so used to living in the here and now, was finally indulging in imagining how their life together would turn out in the long run. How many children they would have together – he pictured her with a rounded belly, and then with an infant in her arms, nursing… Grandchildren, too, would later be filling their house with laughter and games. He grinned: odds were that they were likely to have both children and grandchildren running around simultaneously, for Matthew and Ingrid wouldn't wait much longer to marry and start their family now that he had given them the old homestead.

His thoughts migrated to their new home, the beautiful house that would be as much their little corner of heaven as their harbor for times of turmoil. Suddenly he was struck with remorse as he pictured the new homestead in his mind's eye – and the look on Michaela's face as she had dealt with her sister and mother's contempt. He realized that he had very possibly misinterpreted the disappointment in her eyes that day. Countless times during their year-long engagement, she had come to watch his progress. The excitement in her eyes and her lavish compliments had been genuine and they still filled him with pride. Michaela would have never pretended just to please him – she just couldn't lie, anyway. Looking back now, he realized that she had more likely felt insulted on his behalf because of her family's lack of acknowledgment of his work. She had probably hoped they would have been as impressed as she was that he had almost singled-handedly built it. She truly loved their home – how could he have ever doubted her?

He could only guess that, as she had anxious about her ability to "perform" her wifely duty, he, for his part, had also held onto a few insecurities when it came to providing for her and for their family. Though they had come to a compromise regarding the use of their respective incomes, the remaining uneasiness he felt regarding the matter had more to do with his need to give her the life he felt she deserved than any stubborn male pride. He had meant what he had said the other day on that ridge, that he'd give her the world if he only could…

On the heels of his feelings of inadequacy, the suffocating guilt he still held since Washita over the terrible fate of the Cheyenne resurfaced, unbidden. Since Cloud Dancing had found him, the Medicine Man had helped him come to terms with many things – the loss of Abagail and Hannah, his brother's death, and had helped him accept the fact that he had helplessly fallen in love with a certain lady doctor. He had prompted him to try and find purpose in helping the Cheyenne deal with the constant double-talk and broken promises from the US government… Sully's jaw clenched. _Helping_? Had he really helped? Most of the tribe that had welcomed him into their midst had been slaughtered by Custer and his men, making his job as an Indian Agent seem a cruel joke, his brother now a tribeless, hounded widower… He had failed the Cheyenne. He had failed his family. His _families_…

The ghostly pale faces of Abagail as life had drained out of her, and of their baby Hannah, so tiny, so soft and perfect and yet so blue and cold, flashed through his mind, only to be joined by the disturbing memory of his long gone mother. This time though, he didn't succeed in shoving the disturbing images from his childhood far away enough to be able to ignore them. The crestfallen face of his mother, her vacant, bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair kept swimming before his eyes, time and sorrow distorting them like the rippling surface of the Hudson River. She was the one who had needed him the most, and he hadn't been able to comfort her, to assuage her grief after she had lost her husband and her first-born son. He hadn't been good enough to keep her alive…

Michaela moved again and snuggled closer to him. Reflexively, he clasped her to him in a fierce, almost desperate embrace. What if he failed her, too? He had almost lost her so many times, but what if the one thing that could come between them was precisely his incapacity in keeping her safe? Granted, she was much stronger than her petite figure let on: she had survived influenza, a rabid bear's attack, had endured who knew what at the hands of the Dog Soldiers… so many things that would have made most women faint in horror, and even most men he knew lose their self-confidence… But Michaela had faced it all with incredible courage – _the courage of a warrior_. The force of her love had indeed given him some of that courage, too, more than he had actually acknowledged so far, but his long-delayed grief was now so unbearable that he needed even more of her love to blot it out, cleanse himself of it once and for all in his Heartsong's arms. In fact he was suddenly awash with the need to lose himself into her, to bury the pain, the doubts, the fears, along with himself, within the warm cocoon of her body. _No_, he shook his head at his selfishness: he couldn't ask this of Michaela – that would be _using_ her, and he didn't want to do such a thing to her, not for this reason. What they had together was far too precious…

"Sully?" she asked sleepily, yawning, as he had involuntarily awoken her with his restlessness.

"Go back to sleep," he urged her gently, stroking her back in a soothing motion. "It's still early…"

But she blinked and rubbed her eyes, then sat up next to him, instantly alert as she perceived that again, something had gone awry within him. This time, she wouldn't let the matter rest.

"Something has been troubling you since yesterday. What is it?"

He almost smiled lovingly as the doctor in her, now blended with the concerned wife, was on the ready in a matter of seconds despite her tiredness. From her earnest expression, he knew that she wouldn't be easily placated with denial. He certainly didn't want to spoil their very special time alone together with something he should have put to rest long ago, and yet, he sensed he would lose the battle when she turned the tables on him:

"A few days ago, when I had that nightmare, you told me that I should share with you whatever was troubling me. It has to go both ways, don't you think? I _know_ something's wrong. Please, Sully, tell me… what is it?"

He knew he had to answer somehow, but how? How could he confess to her this turmoil that had surged out of nowhere at the most inopportune moment of his life – of _their_ lives?

Like she had done when he had suffered from the migraine, she instinctively reached out for him, cradling him against her bosom. That motherly gesture sufficed to make his reluctance snap, and he suddenly broke down. Shocked by the unexpected tears, Michaela could only rock him gently, refraining from besieging him with the plethora of questions rushing through her mind, and crooned softly, "Shh, I'm here," into his ear. She wondered if he was thinking of Abagail and Hannah, or if the grief over Washita had finally caught up with him – now that she thought of it, she had seen him profoundly disheartened, but had he truly _mourned_ his Cheyenne family? Whatever this was, he was crying over something painful enough to have sneaked its way into the bubble of their present happiness.

After a few minutes, the sobs that had wracked his body relented, and in a broken voice, he blurted out:

"I can't stop thinkin' of… my Ma, since yesterday. I don' understand why… Why now?"

The resurgence of such memories immediately made sense to Michaela's doctoring instinct, yet she remained silent, allowing him to process his thoughts out loud.

"I got to thinkin' how happy I was with ya, happiest I've ever felt, even as a kid… and suddenly, I remembered my Ma's face last time I saw her…" His voice was so raspy she could barely hear him over the steady hum of the rain outside. It was the ten-year-old Byron's voice, emerging from the ashes of a long lost childhood. "She couldn't get over Willie's death… nothin' I said, nothin' I did made it better for her… like I was hurtin' her when she looked at me, like I was a burden to take care of… and I reckon too much of a reminder of my Pa and brother."

"Yes, very possibly," she murmured, almost to herself as she tried to imagine what Mrs. Sully, the mother-in-law she would never meet, might have felt. An icy, iron fist gripped her heart as she pictured herself losing Sully, and then, one of her children. She had almost lost each one of them at least once, and each time, she had felt close to losing her mind from such distressing anguish. They had all been lucky, the worst had been avoided. But Sully's mother had not been spared from that kind of grief…

Sully went on: "Before Will got killed, our Ma was takin' real good care of us, even though she was workin' so hard to make ends meet…" he paused for a moment, swiping with the backs of his fingers at the stubborn tears that kept rolling down his cheeks. "She took a job workin' in a factory… she'd work up to fifteen hours a day and she'd come home so tired. I… I tried to be good for her, fix my own food, get myself up for school every day, help with chores… I tried to take care 'a her too, when she'd come home and drag herself up the stairs to our apartment. I even cooked for her…but most 'the time she'd say she wasn't hungry and she'd kinda just fall on the bed." He paused again, his mind and heart now totally submerged in his memories.

Michaela sensed he wasn't finished and forced herself to wait patiently until he was ready to share more memories. She was very much aware of the importance of what he was sharing with her, that he was trusting his oldest and most painful wounds into her care. Knowing how private he was about his thoughts and feelings, even with her, she couldn't afford to pressure him in any way and risk a withdrawal into his usual silent, brooding manner.

He resumed his tale after a few minutes. "One night, she came back real late. I had fallen asleep on a chair waitin' for her… She seemed… crushed – like somethin' terrible had happened again. She was standin' there, in the doorway, sorta unsteady. I smelled whiskey on her… My ma never cared for liquor, but I remember wonderin' then if maybe she had tried to drown her troubles into a bottle that night. But it was worse… so much worse. Turned out she'd been attacked by some drunk on her way home. It was payday… He had stolen all her money… he musta been rough with her, her clothes were torn and she had some nasty bruises… I was too young then to tell… but later I wondered if that man had… had…" he couldn't go on, as sobs wracked his body again.

Michaela felt her own eyes well with tears of deep sympathy for Sully's torment and consequently his mother's. It was all too easy to imagine how devastated and desperate Mrs. Sully must have felt, going through so many ordeals, one on top of the other, and finding herself robbed of her means of survival in the process…

"The rest I told you," Sully finished in a despondent whisper, unable to state out loud that the terrible events had led his mother to end her own life by drowning herself in the Hudson River. Michaela understood now that when Sully had mentioned his mother's death, that the drowning was not an accident as she had first thought it was.

He sniffled unceremoniously a couple of times. "I'm sorry, Michaela. Of all times to think about this… and dump it on ya…"

"Sully, I think you needed to release that pain," she soothed. "Tell me something: have you _ever_ allowed yourself to grieve for you mother?" When he only shrugged, she went on, her voice tender, all the while caressing his face and hair and holding him close, as if unconsciously making up for the motherly love he had not received at a time when he had needed it the most."You must have been so angry at her…"

"Nah… I dunno. Maybe a little I guess. Most of what I felt was that nothin' I did had been good enough to make her wanna keep goin', that maybe she didn't love me 'nough to stay with me and figure somethin' out… that I wasn't worth livin' for. Then I tried to convince myself that it was just 'nother accident, and that it had nothin' to do with me. That's how I kept from feelin' guilty, or… I dunno – sorta cursed… know what I mean?"

She nodded, as all the pieces she knew of Sully's life before they met came together and showed so many tragedies that one could indeed see her husband as someone plagued with misfortune and pursued by sorrow. But she vowed to herself that she would do anything to protect him from further harm. Nobody deserved to be happy more than Sully did, and she certainly planned to spend the rest of her life making sure that, from that moment on, he would know nothing but joy and peace of mind.

Sully wept again as his wife encouraged him to allow himself to be submerged by grief, for denying himself of its release would only continue making it fester, and he had waited too long already.

After a while, when it seemed that he had no tears left to cry, he eventually got out of bed to refresh himself a little, but the moment he stood, the room spun around him. He wobbled, and then collapsed helplessly onto the carpet, clutching his head weakly and moaning in pain.

**_ To be continued..._**


	13. In Sickness and in Health

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**XIII – In Sickness and in Health**

Michaela sprang into action immediately, rushing to his side to help him up and back in the bed, doing her best not to jostle him too much. Then she drew all of the curtains closed. The daylight wasn't that bright, with the gloomy weather, but she knew darkness and silence would provide a tiny measure of relief.

She was not that surprised that Sully had been struck by a violent headache right after going through such an emotional upheaval. What worried her the most was the rapid onset of the migraine, and its obvious intensity. Time was of the essence to relieve what was the physical response to his wounded psyche. Though she had brought her medical bag, and therefore only a small supply of the needed plants, at least she had them. And if need be, she could still go to an apothecary she knew of here in Denver.

She was never more grateful for Cloud Dancing's teachings, and she hoped the tea and the use of oils he had recommended for those headaches would be enough. She couldn't imagine building a sweat lodge in their luxurious suite, or trying to make one outside in this weather for that matter…

Once she had made sure Sully was as comfortably settled as possible, with a rag generously doused with lavender oil on his forehead and a towel tucked under his head in case he felt nauseous, she dressed quickly and pulled on the cord to summon one of the hotel attendants. With the help of a couple of other bellboys, he expeditiously brought her requested items: a large kettle and more coals for the hearth, basins, thick blankets and buckets of hot water.

Even though the three young men were obviously well trained to deal with the hotel guests' every whim without gawking, or showing any kind of reaction whatsoever, Michaela could tell they were somewhat wary about the proceedings in the darkened room, and no doubt wondering what she was up to. She caught one of them sniffing suspiciously when she put the tea to brew while she prepared the bathroom for what she hoped would be a good substitute for a sweat lodge, and another eyeing her medical bag with a mixture of mistrust and barely concealed curiosity.

"Is there anything else you need, Ma'am?" the attendant eventually asked.

Michaela cast a glance around the room to check if she might have forgotten anything, but it was the low rumble of her stomach, which fortunately was barely audible, that reminded her of a necessity she had overlooked.

"Yes. Would you be kind enough to bring me a bowl of broth for my husband? I'm afraid that's all he will be able to tolerate for now," she added, more to herself than to the man.

"And what will it be for you, Mrs. Sully?"

Michaela startled slightly at the form of address, not only because she was acknowledged as Sully's wife directly for the first time but also because she found that she didn't mind at all. In the face of all that had happened ever since they were married, her reticence in taking her husband's name now seemed so petty and childish… _oh well, now isn't the right time to dwell on the matter_, she reflected as she redirected her focus on taking care of Sully.

"You can bring me whatever the special is on the menu today, it will be fine. And a pot of coffee, please."

The three young men bowed respectfully when she handed a substantial tip to each of them for their trouble and exited discreetly.

Michaela nibbled carelessly at one of the cake slices from the forgotten collation of the previous evening and then went back to Sully, who was in such a depleted state that he didn't have the strength to complain. Her eyes flew to the clock on the mantle, willing time to go faster so the tea would be ready and hopefully be administered soon enough for the pain to abate quickly. She was certain that the reason Sully's migraine had been so bad the last time he had had one was that it had raged on for days before he had received any care… She racked her brains over and over trying to piece together everything she knew of Sully's history, looking for a pattern in the resurgence of the headaches, only to realize that she actually only knew of the one he had right before he…

Her heartbeat accelerated a little as she recalled his unexpected proposal, but she also wondered what had made that migraine recede in the end… The sweat lodge ceremony? The release of some kind of tension as he had finally proposed to her? She knew he had had a vision seconds prior to calling out to her, but he had never truly told her what he had seen. Had he had some kind of revelation?… Or could it be simply time, wondered her analytical mind, knowing that even the nastiest of headaches eased eventually after a few days…

Whatever it was, she couldn't let him suffer for days without trying everything in her power to make him better. She checked the time again impatiently. She hated waiting, especially when someone she loved was in pain! But she couldn't afford to act recklessly, to administer treatments at random until one of them decided to work! She knew better than that! But the wife in her was seriously threatening to overpower her medical wisdom and throw caution to the wind.

On the heels of her frustration came a strange feeling of guilt. Her heart fluttered and her cheeks flushed a burning scarlet as she thought of the past few hours. Memories flooded her mind and senses of the many ways Sully had solicited such unimagined responses from her still somewhat unseasoned body. They hadn't rested much, even forgoing nourishment. Granted, being on a honeymoon implied spending a large amount of time getting to know one another in a physical way. But it meant other things, too, didn't it? She had let herself get submerged in that whole new world of very pleasurable, intensely satisfying feelings and sensations he had opened up for her, he had so tenderly – so _sensually_ – attended to all her needs, needs she had never known she could have before… and what did she give him back, really? Not only that, but now she wondered if the sudden change in their sleeping and eating habits, due to their frequent intimate encounters, might have contributed to Sully's migraine to some extent with undue fatigue.

More than a little upset with herself, she leant forward to ever so softly kiss his cheek, never more in love with him and grateful that such a man was in her life. She slipped one of her hands into his, which was resting on his heaving chest, while with the other she gently wiped the perspiration off his brow. Her mind and heart were focused on one unique task: heal him, whatever the means.

During that time Sully was struggling against helplessness, as much as his debilitated state would allow. Suffering within a heavy shroud of misery, he could barely string together two coherent thoughts, but at least he was sure of something: Michaela was witness to his present state, she was being forced to tend to him, like she had done the year before. It was rankling to his male ego in spite of himself, and yet, in the years they had known each other, Michaela had seen him in just about every state of injury, sickness, heartbreak, and God knew what else, but she had never, _ever_ looked at him as if thinking of him as less than a man, both as his doctor and as the woman who loved him.

His befuddled, distorted senses registered that some other people came in their room, bringing things, and talking in hushed tones. Then Michaela came back next to him, applying more cool cloths to his forehead. The relaxing scent of lavender coming from the oil she was using, coupled with the fact that it came directly from her, made its effect doubly soothing.

Eventually, she managed to get him to swallow a few sips of tea, and when it appeared that his dizziness had receded a little, she escorted him into the bathroom, doing her best to let as little steam out as she could.

"You… you made a sweat lodge?" he asked feebly, shielding his eyes against the one small lamp she left burning.

Michaela let out a wry, self-conscious giggle. "Well, as close to one as I could manage, at least. I don't know if it will work as well as a real one. But it's better than nothing, I suppose," she whispered, afraid that her voice echoing through the bathroom might hurt him.

He gave her shoulder a weak squeeze of gratitude, and with her help, lowered himself onto the pile of blankets laid on the floor tiles. Then she arranged the rest of the bedcovers provided by the staff to form an enclosed area around him. The result certainly didn't look like a lodge, she mused with a wince, but it was the best she could do presently.

"'Chaela?" Sully's muffled voice sounded even weaker, and she feared a new onslaught of the headache.

"Yes? What is it?" she asked, still keeping her voice low.

"Please… B – bring me my… medicine pouch," he mumbled, miserably pressing the heel of his hand against his right eye when she pulled back the edge of the blanket.

Fortunately it didn't take her long to locate the small bag and return with it. She handed it to him, and then, as she stepped back again toward the bathroom door, he called her back anxiously. "Where ya goin'? Stay with me, please."

"I'll be right back," she murmured in her most reassuring tone. "I'm only getting more hot water for the steam."

While she was gathering the last items they might need, she heard the same muffled chanting he had sung during the first healing ceremony she had witnessed. She was a bit wary regarding the nature of the herbs Sully was using, remembering how light-headed she had felt when she had gone through the experience of "cleansing" herself from her guilt and grief after Washita, sitting in the sweat lodge with Cloud Dancing. But maybe that was exactly what Sully needed right now… and he needed her to stay with him during that process. How could she deny him of that? Resolutely, she shed her blouse, skirt and stockings and, wrapping into one of their bed covers, she went back to the bathroom.

* * *

The piercing pain was relentlessly slicing through the right side of his head. Blinded, disoriented, and nauseous from both the intensity of the pain and the vertigo, he could barely concentrate on breathing in the scented vapor that was swirling around him. But the small, cool hand clasping his and the reassuring presence of his wife next to him when she finally joined him under the makeshift tent, managed to soothe him somewhat. Unlike the year before, he wasn't trying to hide anything from her, nor was he afraid to allow her to see him vulnerable. Feeling at least safe and protected under her warm, bounteous care relaxed him enough to slip into a sort of uneasy, hypnotic doze.

_At first, he found himself in a strange place, and yet, something was oddly familiar. He was walking along a river, but it was neither the South Plate River, nor Cherry Creek, and he certainly wasn't in Colorado at all anymore, for the Rocky Mountains had vanished from the landscape altogether. He ambled some more, until he reached an area he instantly recognized: the riverbank where a steersman had landed his boat and brought back Katherine Sully's body. _

_Sully blinked a few times to try and erase the ghastly memory of his mother's deathly remains, until he again only saw the deserted riverbank. For some time, he stood there silently contemplating the soft ripples on the surface of the water, waiting…_

_And then she came to him. Her face was serene, and yet, there was an unmistakable melancholia tarnishing the vivid cornflower blue of her eyes. The wind blowing her long blonde tresses about, which used to give her such a youthful appearance, now only seemed to accentuate her forlornness. _

_"Ma?" _

_A sad smile appeared on her lips. He had almost forgotten how her smile looked at all. His heart constricted at the sight._

_"Byron," she simply said. Her voiced was as soft as he remembered it from those days when she still had energy left to tuck her two sons in and read to them at night._

_He wanted to go to her, but something held him back. He was indeed angry, he realized, though all the resentment he held toward his mother felt somewhat muffled after years of being ignored. Twenty-five years was indeed a long-time. _

_His mother presently looked as he remembered her from before Will had died, before tragedy had marred her features. Though sadness was still evident in her eyes, she was looking at him with a mixture of pride and tenderness, something he had not felt coming from her in the last months of her life. He also could tell she wanted to say something, but was hesitant. Was she afraid of his wrath?_

_Finally he decided that he would talk first. He needed to clear the air. Part of him was afraid to do so, to bring up all the heartache again. But a warm presence he could neither see nor touch, but felt just the same, as if it came from inside, was encouraging him._

_"Ma, please tell me it was an accident. Tell me you didn't end your life just like that."_

_Tears welled in his mother's eyes. She shook her head._

_"D'you want me to lie?"_

_Sully swallowed hard. "How could you leave me? Didn't you think of what would happen to me after you were gone?" he spat bluntly, only to regret immediately his harsh tone when he saw his mother's face crumble into tears._

_"I – I couldn't… I couldn't go on, Byron. I even thought you'd be better off without me… I wasn't thinking straight – I just felt I had nothing left to give you… I had failed you too, Darling… I had failed everybody," she sobbed._

_Sully felt terrible, as the heart wrenching reality of his mother's state of mind hit him. Michaela had told him briefly about melancholia, its various degrees of severity, and how even wealthy or very much loved people were so badly affected that they simply were unable to see any way out of the pain other than seeking to end it, whatever the means. Anything to blot it out: excessive consumption of alcohol or powerful narcotics such as opium, leading to overdoses, or more radical means like shooting or hanging themselves… or throwing themselves under a train – or in the water… _

_He could only go to his mother and enfold her in his arms. It felt strange to hold her now that he had grown into a man, and she felt almost tiny now… more fragile and vulnerable than he had ever known her._

_"Forgive me," they both said at the same time. He only squeezed her tighter, suddenly feeling the strength he had lacked as a child now finally potent enough to comfort and protect her, if only for this brief reunion. And he felt her gentle, motherly kiss on his cheek, its warmth spreading within his soul like a soothing balm. Could they be making peace so simply, so fast? Yes. The love they used to have as mother and son hadn't died and seemed to be rising from its ashes like a bright, golden phoenix. He felt his heart singing and smiled at last, realizing who else was *there*, watching over him, as if assuring herself that everything was going the way it was supposed to. _

_"I can rest in peace now," his mother said. "You're in the best of hands."_

"I know," he whispered to no one in particular, as she had vanished along with the riverbank, and he found himself back under the tent of blankets, bathed in sweat… and feeling the pain and misery receding at last. He had no idea how long he had been in a trance, but the small hand was still holding his. He opened his eyes to gaze at his anchor to the real world.

Though he felt thoroughly drained from the bout of migraine, the relief of being freed from it made him slightly euphoric – almost like how he had felt when he had proposed to Michaela and the exhilarating moment when she had said yes. He felt sleepy, but what he wanted even more than a sweet, dreamless rest was to touch and hug his wife, to assure himself that she was there to stay, that she would never leave him.

Knowing she was still in full blown physician mode, he let himself be escorted back to the bed and tucked in, but when she made as if to leave his side, he held fast onto her hand and gave it a light tug to indicate that he wanted her to lie down next to him.

Unable to resist the invitation, Michaela complied, very much relieved that the crisis hadn't lasted long. It was only early evening now, and hopefully after a long night of undisturbed rest, he would be back to his normal, strong self. He might still need to address the pain of losing his mother, but something she couldn't really pinpoint told her that the worst was behind him now.

"Thank you," he said, unable to find other word to express his gratitude for her care.

"In joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health… no matter what, I'll be there for you Sully, just like you've always been there for me. I'll be there… forever," she pledged.

Though his arms felt as heavy as lead, he clasped her to him in a euphoric embrace.

"Nĕ mĕ hō′ tĭst Heséeotá'e," he whispered lovingly against her cheek between kisses.

Her eyes sparkled in recognition of her Cheyenne name and even though her Cheyenne was still limited, she guessed he had just told her _I love you, Medicine Woman_. So it was with a voice vibrant with emotion that she answered him, "I love you, too… My Heartsong. Hësta… noo'ôts," she pronounced hesitantly, unsure that it was the correct translation.

He pressed his lips to hers, deeply moved. How he loved this woman! But the pull of his fatigue was calling him in, and his eyes irresistibly slipped shut.

"Forever", she repeated, stroking his brow as he sank into the healing oblivion of sleep, safely enfolded in his wife's arms.

* * *

_Thursday May, 26__th__, 1870_

When Sully awoke the next morning, it was to find that it had finally stopped raining, though the greyish light filtering through the gap of the curtains indicated that the clouds still shielded the sun.

He felt mercifully rested and at peace, the only reminder of his ordeal being a lingering trace of physical weakness weighing on his limbs, as if he had had to wrestle with the entire Seventh Cavalry.

His eyes alighted on the beloved face of his wife, hovering above him as she had when he had fallen asleep, the only clues she had got any sleep at all in the midst of her vigil were her disheveled hair and her still heavy eyelids. But even so, to him, she was still the most beautiful woman.

"Good morning. How's our patient this morning?" she asked with a soft smile.

"Much better, Dr. Mike, thanks to ya," he answered teasingly.

Relieved to see the familiar, humorous twinkle back in his eyes, she leaned in to give him a good-morning kiss. He let out a small chuckle when she pulled back.

"I hope you don't treat all your patients like that. Your husband might get jealous…"

"My husband has nothing to fear in that regard. He's the only one I'm kissing all better," she bantered back. Again they kissed, their lips and tongues settling into their now familiar rhythm within a mere few seconds. Yet, while all her nerve endings screamed at her not to stop, she forced herself to break off the kiss and to slip back into doctor mode.

"How are you _truly_ feeling?" she asked again, her expression one of earnest concern and her eyes searching his for any sign of remaining distress.

"Relieved," he answered truthfully. "'Bout everythin'," he added for good measure, unwilling to delve into the details of the experience and hoping Michaela would understand.

She bit back the further questions that were crowding her mind and her worry that the whole ordeal might not be over yet, choosing not to insist as she would have done with any other patient. But there was another matter she needed to deal with.

"Sully, I need you to tell me how often those migraines occur, so I can give you the most appropriate preventive cure, to at least try and reduce their frequency and intensity…"

Sully frowned, trying to recall the times he had been incapacitated to such an extent by his headaches. The majority had subsided on their own in a matter of a few hours, and only a few of them had been bad enough to stop him from going about his everyday routine.

"The real bad ones – they don't happen that often," he eventually said with a dismissive shrug.

But Michaela wouldn't let herself be placated so easily. "Have you noticed what seems to trigger the headaches? Lack of sleep? Hunger? Certain kinds of food? A change in the weather? It may be seasonal…"

Sully had to smile at her persistence. He should have known that she wouldn't let the matter rest until she had found all the answers.

"I dunno, Michaela… Honest… I can't tell ya for sure what causes those headaches. Sometimes, I'm just upset, sometimes I get 'em when I feel snow comin' in the winter… can be anythin', and nothin' at the same time."

Michaela pondered his answer for a few minutes, wondering how many times in the past he had secreted himself away for days to get through the crisis on his own. Well, no more of that! She didn't want to make him feel cooped up, but she would keep a close eye on him from now on.

"All right. We'll deal with the preventive treatment when we go back home. At least, for the time being, I want you to rest, and to eat properly. You need to regain your strength."

"Doctor's orders, huh?"

"Indeed. I'm prescribing a full day of complete bed rest, plenty of fluids and three light meals."

"Huh uh," he groaned dubiously. Then a devilish glint appeared in his eyes. "If ya wanna make sure I stay put all day, you'll have to stay in bed with me," he challenged her.

"Husband's orders, is it?" she fired back.

"Indeed," he imitated her earlier manner, before drawing her back to him for another round of earnest kissing.

"But what are we going to do all day?" she whispered before their lips collided.

"We'll think o' somethin'."


	14. Checkmate

**Nights in White Satin**

_**by **_

_**A.G. Prentice**_

**XIV – Checkmate**

Never had it been harder for Michaela to tear herself away from Sully's sensuous, all-consuming kisses and caresses. Her need to love, protect, and nurture him at all costs, coupled with her relief over his physical and emotional recovery, exploded into a fierce desire that set her entire body afire within seconds. No amount of Boston restrictions could have quelled that burning longing, but it was the doctor in her who ended up being the voice of reason.

"I believe I said complete rest, didn't I?" she uttered breathlessly.

Sully could only groan in protest, as the irresistible tide of his arousal had already rejuvenated his vitality.

"As much as I trust my doctor, I think this time she may be a little overprotective. My wife can _take care_ o' me just fine," he teased, his innuendo openly provocative.

Michaela found herself on the verge of giving in to temptation, but the fear of a relapse, as well as a returning trace of misgivings that she might be allowing herself to become overly lascivious, shook her out of her trance-like state. Before he could tighten his embrace to hold her captive, she had slithered out of the circle of his arms and out of bed. Despite the unmistakable flicker of sexual frustration in her eyes, she still spoke with determination when she rebuffed him.

"I'm afraid your wife must agree with your doctor right now… we _both_ want you to get proper rest and nourishment." She raised her eyebrows as to challenge him, but when he didn't object, but merely stuck his bottom lip out in disappointment, she concluded, "so I'm going to order breakfast, and then we'll have to find a _quiet_ past-time…"

Feigning resignation, he laid back on the pillows, with his hands laced behind his head, trying to relax. Yet, just seeing her move around the room and picturing her removing her nightgown and putting on her clothes was enough to sustain his restlessness, and he started devising a plan to outsmart his wife's doctoring instinct…

One hour later, they were silently sitting side by side on the bed, empty plates, cups and coffee pot on large trays before them. Their denied longing was still pulsating in the air around them, creating a tension that was hard to bear for them both.

Michaela was trying to avoid meeting his eyes, which she knew were on her, watching her every move. It was as if his soul possessed invisible arms that were reaching out to her, pulling her into an unbreakable embrace. All too aware of how close she was to caving in, she proposed the first pastime that popped in her mind. "How about we borrow a chessboard from the game room?" she offered, hoping it would be either challenging or serious enough to take both their minds off their rather demanding bodily appetites.

Sully turned up his nose at the prospect at first, but then reconsidered – he knew how to play, and maybe… he grinned as he imagined ways of teasing her out of her professional shield. He could tell she was fighting her desire for him, and that flattered and humbled him at the same time, that she could want him so much while remaining so concerned about his well-being that she was denying her own needs. His copy of _Leaves of Grass_ was also a possible option. But the more he thought about it, the more a game of chess seemed a good idea. A _very good_ idea…

When he acquiesced to her offer, Michaela missed the telltale twinkle in his eyes as she rushed out, glad she had a plausible reason to escape from the room, and from her husband's irresistible appeal. Of course, she could have simply summoned a bellhop to fetch the game set for her, but she needed the few minutes apart to pull herself together. On this score, she was truly surprised at herself… just a few days before, she would have never imagined that it was possible for a woman to feel that way, drawn so strongly to her lover, like a magnet to steel. Yet as she walked down the corridor towards the staircase, she rubbed her arms to try to dispel the gooseflesh there, brought out by the frustrated amorous tension within her body, took deep, calming breaths, and tried hard to steer her mind from its stubborn direction – _Sully_, his loving touch, his voice velvet-soft as he murmured endearments against her ear, his… _STOP! Stop it! _She stopped a moment in her tracks, unsure whether she should laugh at herself, cry, or forget all about the stupid game, go back to the room, and give in to her need… _No, no and NO! How dare you think something like this! What will Sully think of you if you impose yourself on him, especially after ordering him to rest?_

When she came back to their suite, she still wasn't as composed as she would have preferred to be, but Sully, on the other hand, had managed to steel his features into a calm façade, even as he noticed her remaining agitation. He would have to find a way to convince her that it was perfectly all right for _her_ to be the one to initiate their intimacy, and that unless he was seriously sick, he would be more than eager to let her _have her way with him_.

Silently, Michaela set up the board and pieces, and Sully chivalrously let her take the whites and make the first move. Since they had never played chess together before, Michaela had no idea what kind of opponent Sully would be, so at first she went easy on him, reining in her penchant for ruthless competition. _No need to make him feel intimidated…_ but after a few deft moves from _him_, she realized that her husband was actually a challenging adversary, and her jumbled thoughts suddenly cleared as she drew all of her focus on the game, fully intent on not letting him win.

Indeed the match ended in stalemate, with her king trapped by Sully's queen and king. Unwilling to lose face, she challenged him to another game, and this time, she played to win. Sully had to chuckle as she triumphantly cried, "Checkmate!" and he was seriously considering his options for retaliating, but again she forestalled him by announcing it was time to get ready for lunch.

"Do you feel well enough to go downstairs, or should I order room service again?"

Knowing that he would not be allowed in the dining room wearing his buckskins, Sully was very tempted by the second option… and yet, it would be a good _move_ to dress up, not only because he knew how much she enjoyed seeing him in a suit, but it would also show her that he felt very well rested indeed. In addition, if a nap was in her post-lunch plans, he fully intended to show her that the word could take on a whole other meaning between married people.

"Let's go," he stated decisively, as he sprang out of bed in his usual sleek manner and, sending a mischievous wink her way, went to the wardrobe to get his suit and start dressing – deliberately standing naked in front of her and moving around the room.

She froze, as pleasantly surprised to see him so apparently… _hardy_, as she was flustered by the sight of him in such complete nakedness. She was now familiar enough with his body that she wasn't blushing with shyness, but rather, the sight seemed to draw her gaze like a bee to a flower. _Michaela Anne! Don't stand there gaping! _she scolded herself…

"'Chaela? Can ya put on that one?"

Startled out of her musings by his request, she saw that he had taken out her powder blue silk dress, the one she had brought home from her trip to Boston and worn at the Sweetheart Dance. The memory of that enchanting evening brought an instant smile to her face, and she was more than happy to comply when she saw the expectant gleam in his eyes. She joined him and, as she took the garment from his hands, she stood on her tiptoes to give him what she intended to be a small but affectionate and appreciative kiss. Yet, she found herself ensnared into a deep, heated one before she had time to process its happening, and the passion that had simmered below the surface all morning burst forth and overcame them. Dropping their apparels unceremoniously, he was a split second away from scooping her into his arms and carrying her to their bed when, with a supreme effort of will, she yanked herself from his hold.

"No… no, no," she whispered plaintively, "we can't… not now…"

"Why not?" he asked rhetorically as her reasons for resisting their feelings were easy to guess, but he wanted her to articulate them out loud. Irrefutable arguments – especially when it came to her doctoring – were usually one of her strengths to get her patients, or anyone else for that matter, to comply with her wishes, but he could play that game, too.

"Because…"

"Because?"

Her eyes snapped open, and he saw in their shimmering depths a raw emotion, mirroring the one she had displayed in an uncannily similar situation. Only this time, the tables were turned on her. He was the one demanding an unequivocal answer. _Would she blurt out "Because I love you" in the heat of the moment, _he mused.

She didn't, though. She could barely remember why they should refrain from being intimate in the first place, her desire for him like a whirlpool in which she was spiraling out of control, drowning into it the same way she was drowning in his eyes.

"_Because_?" he insisted.

She clung desperately to the last shreds of her coherent mind and tried to get the rhythm of both her breathing and heartbeat to a less alarmingly high speed as she – quite reluctantly – answered him, "Because I don't want you to overexert yourself when… when you… only just recovered. You still need to… to rest…"

Sully chuckled.

"I told ya, you don't gotta be so worried 'bout me… I'm _fine_."

_Oh God… his voice…_ she shivered, and closed her eyes again, trying to break the spell cast by his mere presence, much less his sensual magnetism.

"Only thing that's wrong with me _now_," he went on, his tone dropping lower still, "is that I've been feelin' kinda tense all mornin'… as _you_ have… and there's only _one_ thing I can think of that'd make us feel all better." There was no possible doubt regarding the nature of that _thing_ in her mind, and if she had felt like she had been on fire before, it was nothing compared to how she was feeling presently.

Sully pondered – with difficulty – whether he should pursue his seduction, seeing how close she was to yielding, or if he should wait until they were back from the dining room. He knew all he would have to do would be to pull her back into his arms again, and kiss her senseless. Yet, any encounter initiated before lunch would have to be rather hurried… and he certainly much preferred taking his time when it came to making love with his wife!

"I'll make a deal with ya. We go down, and after lunch, I'll challenge you to another game of chess. Winner gets to decide what we're gonna do this afternoon," he concluded, grinning roguishly, his heart pounding expectantly as part of him secretly hoped that Michaela would want him so bad that she would reject the proposition and be the one to drag him to the bed. And yet again, it still might be a bit too soon for her to follow her own impulses. _Better pull on the brake, *now*, before we cross the line! _They were already hovering dangerously close to the point of no return…

He silently congratulated himself as he saw the fierce spark of competition returning in her eyes, and as she actually took up the gauntlet. She was playing right into his hands!

"Deal!"

* * *

Though the process of changing into the blue gown, with all of the petticoats and the now dreaded corset, not to mention putting her hair up, had taken quite a while, Michaela was still feeling the after-effects of their rather piquant teasing when she and Sully went to the dining room. She barely paid attention to what was on the menu, picked at her food and only drank water, as her mouth stayed stubbornly dry. Sully noticed her uncharacteristic moodiness and wondered whether he should be glad for it, or worried. Had he been guilty of letting things go too far between them earlier? He had never heard about women having that kind of physiological threshold beyond which it was hard to settle down, like it happened to men, but then, why not? He frowned slightly at the thought that he might have caused discomfort to his wife and was more determined than ever to get her to take a _loving nap_ with him after lunch. _And forget that game!_

"Michaela, you all right?" he asked after she released yet another soft sigh.

Her head snapped up, and she graced him with her customary crooked grin.

"Yes. I guess I'm just not very hungry."

"Me neither," he returned, raising his eyebrows, as if to signify to her that he was ready to go back to their suite if she was. But he hadn't counted on Michaela being able to remain the ever-professional doctor even as the wife – the _lover_ – in her was so obviously champing at the bit to return to their private quarters. Her smile fell as concern laced her features.

"Are you still feeling nauseous?"

"Nope. I'm _fine_. 'Chaela… stop frettin' about the megrim, it's _gone_." Feeling her eyes scrutinize him in search for signs of mendaciousness, he said, lowering his voice and regarding her pointedly, "I ain't hungry… for _food_… same as you, I'd wager…"

His statement served to make her skin turn a few darker shades of pink, and she had to avert her gaze, slightly embarrassed that her innermost feelings could be so easy to read. Yet, maybe only Sully could tell, because he knew her so well – she certainly hoped so. In that case, did she really mind that he read her like an open book…? Her heart fluttered at the thought, and she lifted her gaze up to meet his again, the unwitting seductive gleam back in her eyes.

So, when he quickly wiped his mouth on his napkin and indicated with a swift motion of his head the direction of the staircase, she didn't need more of an invitation. Fingers threaded tightly, they ascended the stairs and scurried straight to their room, their feet moving faster with each step.

As the door closed, Michaela expected Sully to take her in his arms right away, to start undressing her, or lead her to their bed, but when he directed her to the couch, she cast him a puzzled look.

"Deal's a deal," he reminded her, intentionally using his most seductive tone. "And I plan to make it _sweet_."

He kissed her teasingly, long and deep enough to weaken any resistance she might have, but not so it would prompt them to lose complete control yet. Light-headed and breathless, Michaela dropped onto the settee, trying to regain her senses while Sully went to fetch the chessboard they had left on the bed. A maid had come to straighten the room while they were downstairs, and she had put it on the console table that stood between the French windows.

When he settled on the footrest on the other side of the coffee table and replaced the pieces to start the game, she eyed him with a mixture of tender exasperation and longing. "_That_ wasn't very fair play," she breathed.

Sully knew she was referring to his kiss, and grinned wickedly. "Ya know what they say," he retorted, fixing her with an ardent stare, "_All's fair in love and war_…"

"Is that so?"

"Told ya, winner gets to decide what we do next… so, I'm willin' to do whatever it takes to win."

"No mercy?"

"_Nope_," he answered, elongating the word as he shook his head slowly, his eyes glittering with mischievous intent.

With that the contest began, and it was indeed a ruthless match. Michaela pulled out all the stops and played her most clever moves and tactics, while Sully continued his attempts to distract her. When it appeared that she couldn't win on quick-wittedness only, she resolved to retaliate by turning his destabilizing strategy back on him. But… _how could she do that?_ Sully only had to look at her in a certain way, as if his eyes were undressing her, caressing her, for her to feel as warm and aroused as if he was effectively touching her. He only had to breathe a bit more heavily than he usually did, his nostrils flaring, to communicate the urgency of his desire. It was also in the way his fingers manipulated the chess pieces to move them – slow and careful, yet confident and deliberate. Or maybe it was her own desire that was coloring her perceptions… oh how she wished she could exude the same level of subtle seduction and make him dearly pay for what he was doing to her!

Actually, she had indeed been mirroring his behavior, casting smoldering looks at him and caressing the game pieces – yet she was naively unaware of how intensely provocative her gestures were coming across. So much so that, halfway through the game, while it seemed that neither one could really get the upper hand, Sully was nearing the end of his rope. Those eyes… _O those mesmerizing eyes of hers!_ And her scent, it seemed to pervade the room, that intoxicating mix of velvety skin and flowers warmed by a summer sun. His lips ached to kiss the graceful lines of her throat framed so perfectly by the fine lace and silk! His eyes were repeatedly drawn to the shadowy valley of her breasts, barely noticeable above the rather demure neckline of her gown. Each time she bent forward to move a piece and they became slightly more pronounced, he would swallow unconsciously.

The final straw was when she removed the pins out of her bun and shook her long tresses loose. He gulped, as entranced by the glorious sight of her hair as ever. _Talk 'bout not playin' fair! _He lost his focus then, and Michaela took full advantage of his distraction. In three quite aggressive moves, she sacrificed her remaining rook and bishop, but took his queen and checkmated him with her knight.

"I won!" she exclaimed, laughing and very pleased with herself.

Sully raised his hands in mock surrender. He didn't particularly mind losing – at least the confounding game was finally over!

"So? What d'ya wanna do now?" he managed.

War raged within her, her senses painfully alert and her body tense with her hunger for him, while her mind reeled with all sorts of warnings, most of them making less and less sense as seconds ticked by…

_Control yourself_.

Determinedly making her decision, she abruptly rose, though her knees felt like they were about to give way, and she moved to the bed. Turning down the covers, she patted the mattress invitingly.

"I ordered bed rest this morning, and bed rest is what you're getting, Mr. Sully," she directed, trying hard to keep her voice from sounding breathless or faltering.

"Sure," he answered with a strange lilt in his voice she didn't know what to make of – though her instinct guessed that he was up to something. Trying to quell her mounting anxiousness, she tried to give herself some countenance by smoothing out the bed sheets.

And then, before she even realized he had sneaked up behind her, she felt his hands groping for the clasps of her bodice.

"Sully!" she protested, albeit halfheartedly.

"I told ya, the only way you can keep me in bed today is to get under the covers with me…"

"But –"

"No buts. It ain't negotiable. Ya may have won the game… but since ya _cheated_ –"

"I most certainly did _not_!" she objected indignantly, turning to face him.

"Yeah you _did_! You're too dang beautiful, usin' them wiles, flirtin' with me like that. Man can't think straight…" he griped teasingly, since he had actually enjoyed every second of her flirtatious seduction.

The well-aimed compliment could have disarmed her, but her competitive self would not let her be placated that easily.

"And what were _you_ doing, over there? Weren't you trying to distract _me_?"

"Only to get back at ya… tell ya what, I get in bed, but you keep me company, and we call it –"

"Even…" they said together.

"Fine," she concluded primly, "On one condition – you must _rest_!"

_We'll see about that, _he thought, grinning to himself. When he reached again for the fastenings of her dress, she swatted at his hand lightly.

"I don't need your help to undress, _thank you_, and you can change all by yourself, _over there_," she chided, pointing to the bathroom door. Her feeble attempts to reject temptation and put off the inevitable were even more amusing than frustrating, so he complied with her wishes without a fuss, knowing it would be only a matter of time before she surrendered. _At least he hoped so…_

* * *

Michaela was torn – _again_. She longed to join with Sully, to lie with him, skin to skin, kissing and caressing. Her husband seemed perfectly well now and an afternoon interlude would certainly not cause him any harm… _I've been feelin' kinda tense all mornin'… as you have… and there's only one thing I can think of that'd make us feel all better_, his voice kept repeating over and over in her mind, exacerbating her frustration… Yet, images of him sprawled on the floor, moaning in pain, or retching with nausea, flashed through her memory. The doctor in her really wanted him to rest…

Earlier, she had considered giving him a massage, to get him to fully relax and maybe putting him into a much-needed sleep. But now, the mere thought of the feel of his warm, smooth skin under her fingers sufficed to send jolts of desire shooting through her, the _wife_ locked in furious battle with the _physician_.

Sully's reappearance just then, clad only in his cotton breeches, put paid to further inner deliberation.

"How come ya didn't change into somethin' more comfortable?" he remarked, striving to sound innocuous.

"Er… perhaps it's wiser…"

He went to her and, winding his arms tightly around her waist so that she couldn't escape, he allowed his lips to graze her cheek, whispering in her ear, "You mean ya prefer wearin' that chastity belt to bein' with me?"

Trapped in his arms as well as in the cage of fire of her unquenched desire, all she could do was to shake her head. All Sully had to do was to take her lips and all was lost. The long awaited kiss was like a lit match to their highly inflamed senses, and passion flared as hotly as a burning inferno after a dynamite explosion.

But Sully, being an expert powder man, knew better than to pour it on too heavily and let them be consumed on the spot. He unexpectedly released her, and resumed his earlier task of unfastening her clothes, noticing with satisfaction that this time not only didn't she try to stall him, but she actually participated to the process.

Having become skilled at the removal of excessive feminine garments, within two minutes, Sully had her down to her camisole and pantaloons, but as he reached for the ribbons that held them in place, she gently seized his wrists to stop him.

"Sully…" she began, her eyes searching his.

"Somethin' on your mind?"

There was so much she needed to tell him, to show him, that she didn't know where to begin… how she appreciated his patience, his understanding, but also his persistence. How he was making her feel so cherished! But words and gestures seemed to her so shallow compared to the magnitude of her feelings.

Sully understood that she still needed time, and maybe a little help, to articulate her most intimate thoughts and needs. Maybe she would never fully overcome the puritan mentality she had known all her life, but he simply loved her too much to really mind, and if anything, her reserve endeared her to him all the more and made her bolder, more sensual side even more exciting. When she didn't answer him, he didn't press her, but gently took her hand, leading her to the bed onto which they laid down – or more accurately fell – kissing breathlessly.

After hours of teasing, delaying and struggling, their nerves were beyond frayed and aching with so much pent-up need that even Sully's last shreds of self-control crumbled, and Michaela was just as powerless to resist any longer. The last barriers of cotton that remained between them seemed to magically vanish and soon they were moving together as one, their fervor knowing no limit. And in the spur of those intense moments, her body reacted in yet another new way, writhing and arching into his to meet each of his thrusts, the rhythm of her movements synchronized with his – so perfectly, actually, that Sully was overcome with the need for release even sooner than he had dreaded. Fortunately he held out just long enough to bring his wife along with him to that golden, brightly lit place where the only thing that existed any more was the trinity formed by two lovers and their pleasure – which reached such an intensity that, for a while, they remained silent, their breathing still reduced to a shallow panting, their eyes locked as if transfixed in absolute adoration.

It did take some time for them to regain their sense of reality. Michaela's first lucid thought was that they had done exactly what she had deemed too premature and tiring for him so early after the crisis he had suffered. The frown that creased her forehead wasn't lost on Sully, and he had no trouble guessing what it meant. Tenderly, he nuzzled her neck, cheek and temple, and smiled softly at her, deeply moved by her concern.

"Ya don't gotta worry anymore, Dr. Mike," he said, unable to resist a bit more teasing and also hoping she would see the truth of his words through his light-hearted tone. "Told ya my wife could take care of me just fine. See?" he extended his arm with a flourish, "I was all tense, and some _good_ lovin' from her made me all better!"

For a few seconds, Michaela couldn't answer, as she processed the meaning of what he was saying. As to drive the nail home, Sully added, "Sometimes, love is the best remedy."

Returning his smile at last, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer for a kiss.

"I can certainly concur with that!"

**_To be continued..._**


End file.
